We’re back with another of Frederick Blakeslee’s “The Story Behind The Cover”—this week the spotlight’s on the July 1933 cover of Dare-Devil Aces. Blakeslee presents the story of an attack on a flight of German planes that was the result of a toothache! Without further ado, Blakeslee’s “The Yellow Hornet”…

TWO ALBATROSSES had become the special terror of Allied two-seaters. Known as the “Wolves of The Sky,” unlike wolves they were not cowardly. They fought viciously but fairly. They seemed to love a fight against odds. Although they did not hesitate to attack a two-seater that was weakly protected, they seemed to take special interest in those which had strong escorts.

One day however, they met their match in a numerically weak combination—a two-seater Bristol and a single Nieuport. The former was flown by an English crew, the latter by a Frenchman. The Germans sighted this pair over Boche lines, and went to the attack. The Nieuport was flying a little above and behind the Bristol, and kept this position apparently unaware of the enemy’s approach, until the Germans had approached within range. Then suddenly both Allied ships turned and charged at the startled Boches, guns blazing. The Germans swerved aside only to find that each one had an enemy on his tail. Then two separate combats developed.

The German who found himself in combat with the heavier and slower Bristol could not, despite his superior speed, get that ship in his sights. Finally in desperation, he looped, dove and came up under—where the Bristol should have been. But the British plane had executed a sudden skid, dove and passed the Alba-tros as it shot up. The British gunner’s deadly aim did the rest. With a wrecked motor the Albatros stalled, then dropped away out of sight.

In its first dive on the other German, the Nieuport had so badly damaged the tail assembly of the Albatros that it, too, was compelled to dive away, unable to turn either to right or to left.

Thus began a series of fights between these four ships, extending over a period of five or six weeks. Neither gained a victory—then, just before Armistice Day. the luck broke for both sides.

The two Germans, by using a cloud formation, surprised the Frenchman. In one burst the propeller of the Nieuport was shattered and the fabric on the tip of one wing was chewed to ribbons by flaming slugs. The Frenchman turned and dove, with the Germans strung out behind. There was purpose in that dive, for the Nieuport passed under the Bristol who met the Germans with a blistering broadside. The leading Boche joined the Frenchman in his glide to earth.

The battle between the remaining Albatros and the Bristol was short but savage. Suddenly the German was seen trying to correct a jam in his guns; he was forced to stop firing. Almost at the same time the Englishman discovered that he had used his last drum of ammo.

He looked toward the German who threw up his hands to indicate he was through; the Englishman did the same. They waved to each other and both went home, with their planes in bad shape.

“Wolves of the Sky: The Story Behind The Cover” by Frederick M. Blakeslee (August 1933)

Check back again. We will be presenting more of Blakeslee’s Stories behind his cover illustrations.

Haw-w-w-w! It’s another Phineas Pinkham howl. We present another humerous tale of Phileas Pinkham from the prolific pen of Joe Archibald. Pinkham appeared in almost every issue of Flying Aces from November 1930 through November 1943! As if Archibald didn’t have enough to do, he also supplied the artwork for the story.

It was a nice trip. It began with Phineas knocked out cold after a crack-up. It continued with a couple of doughboys loading him onto an ambulance bound for the hospital. And it ended with a couple of doughboys knocked out cold in an ambulance. What do you expect?

• Download “Hans Up!” (March 1934, Flying Aces)

We’re back with another of Frederick Blakeslee’s “The Story Behind The Cover”—this week the spotlight’s on the July 1933 cover of Dare-Devil Aces. Blakeslee presents the story of an attack on a flight of German planes that was the result of a toothache! Without further ado, Blakeslee’s “The Yellow Hornet”…

THE COVER shows a Spad attacking a group of Germans. However, it was not a premeditated attack at all—it was the result of a toothache!

This story was told to me by the pilot involved. I shall call him Smith, although that is not his name. It happened in early 1918. Smith doesn’t remember the exact date, but two days before, a pain developed in his left jaw. He didn’t pay much attention to it, except to think that sooner or later he must visit a dentist. By night the pain was steady, yet not troublesome and Smith hoped it would be gone by morning. Morning came and so did the toothache—by now more severe.

It acted like an ulcerated tooth but the nearest regimental dentist was miles away, so Smith put off the dreaded ordeal and in the excitement of a dogfight that day the pain was forgotten.

He took his place next day in the dawn patrol. They had been out about an hour when an agonizing pain shot through his head. It made him jump and yank back his controls. The rest of the squadron were startled to see Smith’s Spad shoot suddenly straight up, tracers blazing. (In the agony of the moment he had squeezed his triggers.) Thinking they had been attacked the squadron broke rank and zoomed in every direction.

Smith let go his throbbing face long enough to bring his ship out of a tail spin, and then with motor wide open he streaked for home and a dentist. The squadron, not seeing the enemy and shrewdly surmising the trouble, had reorganized and started in pursuit of their comrade. They had to keep their distance, for every so often Smith’s plane would emulate a contortionist.

These spasms marked the pain that came and went in Smith’s face. It was during one of these that Smith barged onto a Boche patrol, scattering them right and left. Strange to say, his tracers, shot without aim—in fact without knowledge —found their mark in an L.V.G. which was put out of commission and forced to land. Before the startled Boches could get organized, Smith had gone. The rest of the patrol, taking advantage of the situation, proceeded to give a thorough beating to the frightened Jerries.

Smith meantime had landed. A crowd, luckily a French crowd, was at the spot almost at once and by gestures and groans which anyone could understand, and with the help of the sympathetic crowd and a pair of pliers the tooth was yanked out then and there.

Smith was promptly dubbed the “Yellow Hornet,” because his small, bright yellow ship, contrasted with the dull colors of the German ships, gave exactly that appearance.

“The Yellow Hornet: The Story Behind The Cover” by Frederick M. Blakeslee (July 1933)

Check back again. We will be presenting more of Blakeslee’s Stories behind his cover illustrations.

Back with another of Eugene Frandzen’s “Lives of the Aces in Pictures” from Flying Aces Magazine. The series ran for almost four years with a different Ace featured each month. This time we have the June 1934 installment which pictorialized the life of that great Canadian Ace—Captain Francis Granger Quigley!

Private Quigley enlisted in December 1914 and served with the 5th Field Company of the Canadian Army Engineers on the Western Front. He transfered to the RFC in September of 1917 where he was assigned to the 70th Squadron RFC. By this time he had made the rank of Captain and flying a Sopwith Camel, he is credited with 33 victories! He earned the Distinguished Service Order, the Military Cross and the Military Cross with Bar!

Wounded in March of 1918 when a bullet shattered his ankle, he was sent to Le Touquet Hospital to recover. He finished his convalescence in Canada where he served as an instructor at Amour Heights. Requesting a return to action in France when his ankle had heeled, Guigley came down with the influenza on the way back to England. He died in a hospital two days after his ship docked in Liverpool.

• Download “Lives of the Aces in Pictures – Part 24: Captain Quigley (June 1934, Flying Aces)

Here’s a nifty little article from the pages of the September 1942 issue of Writer’s Digest, the leading and largest writer’s magazine. Every issue is a gem. There’s usually articles about how to write for certain genres and markets; listings of the publications and opportunities available in different regions; and the letters column which frequently features letters from authors and publishers of the day.

THE AIR-WAR PULPS

By Richard Cromwell • Writer’s Digest, September 1942

A GOOD MARKET that many able writers are passing up are the air-war pulps, by which I mean the magazines that feature the American or British hero and fighting in the air in either the first world war or the present conflict. Such publications are legion. Many of the better known ones are Fighting Aces, Battle Birds, Dare-Devil Aces, and Sky Fighters. Writing for these magazines is comparatively easy once one has learned the rules of the game. And these pulps do pay well.

Do these periodicals stick to the formula? What type of character is preferred? What length? These same questions arc asked every day by writers. In this article, I hope to answer them.

These magazines stick so decidedly to formula that most of the situations and plots are so threadbare that they are distasteful. People are beginning to tire of the same old thing done up in a different package every month. A writer who can produce something fresh will be eagerly welcomed into this group.

The veterans are afraid to change from their moth-eaten plots to something new and fresh. Why? Simply because they know that if they turn out something which is original, and the editor does not like it, they are in danger of losing their steady markets. Authors who continue to write hackneyed stuff arc on the way out. Don’t start out using beaten-to-death plots or you shall regret it.

One of the most shopworn plots, one which you should steer safely away from, is this fragile example. Flying hero goes out on patrol with the rest of his flight-mates. The patrol is engaged by the enemy. Something goes wrong with hero’s guns or engine, and he is forced to pull out and limp back to his home base. Going back, his engine or gun trouble clears up. When he lands, he is flatly accused of deserting his mates. The members of the squadron begin to hate him like poison. After another forced pull-out, he is threatened with a court-martial or some other form of punishment. He escapes, steals a plane, and heads for Hunland, determined to make it plenty hot for the Germans in his last hour. An enemy flight intercepts him. Climaxing a bitter fight, during which he shoots down several Germans, he has to make a forced landing. Holding off the enemy ground troops with his machine guns, he makes the necessary repairs, takes off after being wounded and goes back, to home field. Upon landing there, he is greeted by his fellow-officers, who have found they had been wrong about him.

Writers of air stories would do well to make a study of different aircraft and parts. For instance, a pilot always refers to the power plant as “the engine” instead of “the motor.” Be very careful about stunts. Here are some of them: the loop, wing-over, Im-melmann turn, chandelle, snap-roll, aileron or slow roll, and the outside loop. These stunts are used in military flying. Study the ground terms, personnel of an airport, flying terms, weather, etc. One book which will give you all of this is “The Air Story Writer’s Guide,” published by the Digest’s book department. The price is only twenty-five cents.

What type of character is preferred? The red-blooded, he-man type fits the bill. He should be a hell-raiser and always in the midst of trouble. However, make your main character sympathetic to the reader and give him strong motivation in order to make the story convincing.

As to the length, 5,000 words is the best for one who is just trying to break into these markets. After you sell a few short stories, then is the time to try a novelette. It is best not to aim at the longer yarns at first, not until you get some experience.

Before sending in a yarn to a specific magazine, write the editor a letter asking what he likes personally. Lots of writers don’t advise this, but I have found that it is better than making a blind stab at the target. Some editors have peculiar dislikes. When you enter into a correspondence with an editor, you are making the first sure step toward the goal.

Now is the greatest period of all times for beginning writers to break into the pulp air-war magazines. New air publications are springing up constantly — in a never-ending stream. Millions of words by new writers are being printed every month. Some magazines use the very cheapest sort of material, especially if their editorial budget is down, and the editors must buy the best they can get at their ½ cent a word rate. But, in order to find your place in these markets, you must study the different magazines month in and month out. Do not merely glance at them. Study the kind of characters they use, the type of story, the advertisements.

At the present time, I am writing air-war yarns for Collier’s. While we are talking about pulps, I believe that the type of plot used in my current slick story is the sort which would appeal to the readers of the pulp sheets. The hero is not the do-or-die individual with whom we are so readily familiar. Instead, he is a mental coward. He can not face the ghosts in his mind. For that reason, he never went to bed until 4 o’clock in the morning; he loafed in the canteen until that time. The excerpt which I have taken from the yarn reveals what he fears, and definitely establishes him as a strange character. It goes as follows:

  Benton said coldly, “You’ve changed, Steve. Why, I can remember when you joined the R.A.F. six months ago; how excited you were when you were transferred to this squadron ; how—”
  “That was six months ago,” Armitage said. “Six months can be a lifetime when you’re in a war.”
  Benton studied him closely. “In reality, you’re not a coward. You’re just trying
to do an impossible thing. Hide from yourself.”
  “Aw, I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Larry.” Armitage rested his head in his hands.
  “I’m slowly going nuts. And I have to drink to wash the ghosts from my mind. But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
  “I know all about it.”
  “Remember last week, Larry? I sent a Nazi down in flames that day. And just before the fire closed over him, I saw his face. It was like a face from Satan’s own pits. But that man didn’t die. He still lives—in my dreams every night. A face with scorched skin, hair ablaze—”

How do you like Armitage? One way to keep the reader’s attention is to present unusual characters. Strive to do that thing, and you will add a lot to your story.

Do you open a story with thudding fists and scraping feet? Plenty of inexperienced writers open a story like that, and most of the time, the fight has absolutely no bearing on the yarn. It is just thrown in for effect, to catch the reader’s eye. Of course, if the fight has some definite purpose, it is all right. A good trick, for the first three or four paragraphs, is to surround the protagonist in mystery and to place against him such odds as to make his situation appear hopeless. For example:

  Conover knew he was about to die. But he didn’t fear dying so much. He had always thought he would relch and scream as lead pounded into his body. Slugs were eating into his body now, and he didn’t do either of those things.
  Von Schiller and his crew were coming in to finish him off. The Baron lashed around. Steel-jacketed death battered into the Hurricane’s greenhouse, then into the office. A grimace split Gonover’s face into a million lines as a bullet found his side. A pool of blood covered his flying jacket. Crimson trickled from his mouth in warm streams. The instrument panel burst into a mess of tin and glass and wood. Gasoline poured through the wrecked panel and onto the floor boards—

Now you can see that our hero is in a hell of a fix. The worse you make it, the better the reader likes it. The hero’s squadron can be dragged onto the scene in time to save his neck.

I’ve tried my best to tell you a bit about the air-war pulps. I don’t know whether I’ve succeeded or not. Hope I have.

Frederick Blakeslee painted the covers for Dare-Devil Aces‘ entire fourteen year run. Every one of those covers told a story, and Blakeslee had a page with which to do so. We present Blakeslee’s cover for the June 1933 issue of Dare-Devil Aces—his tribute to the great French Ace, Georges Guynemer—”The Vanished Ace!”

THE COVER this month is dedicated to the French hero, Georges Guynemer. It shows him gaining his fifty-first victory, when on August 17, 1917, he shot down a two-seater Albatros. He was to bag two more victories before the end. Then on Sept. 11, 1917, he flew away on patrol—and never came back. He disappeared completely, neither his body nor his ship ever being found. Guynemer’s disappearance is one of the unsolved mysteries of the War.

On that fatal day of September he left his drome with Second Lieutenant Verduraz. They sighted a two-seater over Poelcapelle and Guynemer went to the attack while Verduraz sought to draw off the impending attack of eight German scouts. In this Verduraz succeeded, and he flew back to the spot where the combat had taken place. Guynemer was not in sight. After waiting some time, he flew close to the ground, looking for wreckage. Seeing none and thinking that Guynemer had returned to the airdrome, he flew back, but Guynemer was not there and never was again.

The news was kept quiet in the hope that he had landed and was in hiding. There were grounds for this belief. Germany, always prompt to proclaim a victory, was silent. Ten days later, immediately after a notice of Guynemer’s death had been published in an English paper, Germany published a letter from a pilot named Wissemann, to the effect that he had shot down Guynemer on Sept. 10. This date only added to the mystery for it was a proven fact that Guynemer was alive on Sept. 10. France then demanded details and Germany replied that Guynemer was shot down on the 10th of September and buried in Poelcapelle cemetery with military honors. Another report with a different version had it that two soldiers were present and saw Guynemer’s body with a broken leg and a bullet through the head.

On October 4th, the British took Poelcapelle, but found not a trace of Guynemer’s grave or his ship. France, impatient at so many conflicting reports, again demanded the true facts. This time Germany replied that Guynemer had been killed on the 11th. (This date had already been widely published.) Germany said that due to heavy shelling of the spot the body and machine could not be reached and the shelling had eventually obliterated the wreckage. This version was finally accepted.

If it were true that Wissemann shot Guynemer down, he did not long survive his victory. He had written to his parents thus, “Have no more fears about me, I have brought down Guynemer and I can never again meet so dangerous an adversary.” Yet on Sept. 30th he fell before the guns of Lieutenant Rene Fonck.

The day Guynemer flew away on his last flight his favorite ship was being repaired, and so it has been preserved. He called his little Spad “Vieux Charles” (old Charlie) and today it is on the balcony within the court of the Hotel des Invalides in Paris. His name is engraved on the roll of honor in the Pantheon, where are the names of the greatest heroes of France.

“The Vanished Ace: The Story Behind The Cover” by Frederick M. Blakeslee (June 1933)

According to his english wikipedia page, the red cross provided the following confirmation of his death:

Information received by the Red Cross says Guynemer was shot through the head north of Poelcapelle, on the Ypres front. His body was identified by a photograph on his pilot’s license found in his pocket. The burial took place at Brussels in the presence of a guard of honor, composed of the 5th Prussian Division. Such is the story told by a Belgian, who has just escaped from the Germans. The burial was about to take place at Poelcapelle, when the bombardment preceding the British attack at Ypres started. The burying party hastily withdrew, taking the body with them. The German General chanced to be an aviation enthusiast with a great admiration for Captain Guynemer’s achievements. At his direction the body was taken to Brussels in a special funeral car. Thither the captain was carried by non-commissioned officers and was covered with floral tributes from German aviators. The Prussian Guards stood at salute upon its arrival and during the burial, which was given all possible military honors. The French Government has been invited to place in the Pantheon, where many great Frenchmen are buried, an inscription to perpetuate the memory of Captain Guynemer as ′a symbol of the aspirations and enthusiasm of the Army.′ A resolution to this effect has been introduced in the Chamber of Deputies by Deputy Lasies.

Check back again. We will be presenting more of Blakeslee’s Stories behind his cover illustrations.

A few years ago, writer and frequent Age of Aces contributer Don Hutchison came up to our table at PulpFest and handed us a manilla envelope, entrusting us with its contents.

When we opened the envelope, there were correspondence between Robert Hogan and Henry Steeger and a copy of the Newton, New Jersey Sunday Herald from October 21st, 1962. The Newspaper contained a lengthy article on former Sussex resident, Robert J. Hogan, nicely illustrated (although there are a few inaccuracies in the captions).

Here is that article:

Lurid Plots Hatched In Sussex Boro

Newton, New Jersey, Sunday Herald • 21 October 1962 (vol.1 no.19)

40 Bank St. Birth Place Of Spy King

Improbable though it may seem, a stately home on a quiet Sussex Borough back street was the hatchery for some of the most diabolical, bloodcurdling international spy plots that rocked the English speaking world less than 30 years ago.

The nefarious schemes that pour from the sparsely-furnished little room upstairs at the rear of the hall overlooking Clove avenue make today’s U-2 flights, satelite “spy-in-the-sky” and CIA cloak and dagger shenanigans sound like Sunday School stories.

For here, in the house at 40 Bank street, now owned and occupied by Dr. and Mrs. Lester Eddy, was born the dauntless G-8, the “Master Spy” and his “Battle Aces”, a fearless group of fliers who thwarted the cruel and ingenious enemies of the United States at every turn—in pulp magazines from coast to coast and around the world.

G-8, the “Spy King of the Pulps”, was the brainchild of Robert J. Hogan, one of the world’s most prolific writers, who now lives at 8 Tamarack Road, Sparta. Back in the depression days of the 1930’s, Hogan thought nothing of pounding out 200,000 words a month for the pulp magazines.

Two Stenographers

His agile, racing mind kept two stenographer-typists busy on split shifts as he produced a complete novel and two short stories every month for the G-8 series, and sandwiched in a cops and robbers series called The Secret Six and a Chinese menace series known as Wu Fang. Each of these called for a 60,000-word novel a month plus enough short stories to fill the back of each magazine.

And G-8 would not have been born in Sussex Borough had it not been for a couple of ice cream cones.

Hogan, who now divides his time between Sparta and Coral Gables, Fla., recalls his introduction to Sussex County in 1931. He and his wife. Betty, were house hunting. They had been living in Melbourne, Fla., when he started his writing career, but decided they wanted to be closer to New York City, editors and the magazine markets.

So, they piled their belongings in their old car and headed north. They had previously seen and liked the old stone houses around Kingston, N.Y. But Kingston was a little far up the river to run into New York and back in a day. (The budding author had to watch his pennies.) Newton seemed to be a good distance, beyond the high rent, daily commuting area.

“It was the hottest day we ever hope to see; the afternoon must have been over a hundred when we pulled into Newton and parked by the square,” Hogan recalls. From Steve Case, who then operated a real estate business on High street next to The New Jersey Herald, they learned the only rental available in Newton was half of a two-family house for $65 a month.

Rent Too High

The Hogans wanted a single house. “Besides, $65 was twice too high for us,” Hogan points out. They asked about Sussex Borough.

“Rents are out of sight in Sussex,” they were told. “High Point Park has boomed the whole area.”

Discouraged, hot and unhappy, the Hogans returned to their car. We were miserable. We looked at our road map and talked about heading for Kingston as a last resort, but with no assurance of finding what we wanted when we got there,” Hogan continues.

“We saw that Sussex was on the way to Kingston. They might have cold ice cream cones in Sussex. We drove on; every mile was torture. We were sweltering, lost children becoming more and more defeated.”

They chugged glumly north through Ross’ Corner. A short distance past the intersection “we stopped at the side of the road and talked over our problem. The whole future seemed hopeless.”

The wayfaring Hogans drove on to Sussex, up Main street, and stopped opposite Van Inwegen’s Drug Store. Hogan went in to get ice cream cones.

“The Vanlnwegen son was behind the soda counter. I ordered the ice cream cones and; just by way of conversation while he dipped, asked if there were any homes for rent in Sussex.”

“Sure,” he said. “You can go over to the Sussex Independent office around the corner and read their ads. But I know the old Simmons mansion up on Bank street is for rent, if it wouldn’t be too big for you.” He suggested they look in the windows.

Window Inspection

Hogan continues: “We drove up Bank street. The house was vacant. We looked in the first floor windows while we finished our ice cream cones.”

“Harry Beemer came over from across Main street where he lived and told us as much as he could about the place. Ben Simmons owned it, but this being August, Ben and his family were at their summer place at Culver Lake.

“Harry said we could drive up Clove avenue, to Bill Little’s house and they’d put us up for the night. In the morning we could see Ben Simmons at his place of business.”

They not only found a comfortable room at the Little home, but also had dinner with the family and were taken for a ride to High Point “That ride to cool High Point just about saved our lives,” Hogan recalls.

The next morning they were waiting for Ben Simmons when he arrived at his store. He said, “How would $35 a month suit you for rent?” The deal was closed then and there, and the Hogans moved into 40 Bank street and remained there for three years.

Hogan continues to reminisce: “They were rough times financially. I wrote furiously, gaining very slowly. One editor said he liked a story of mine about a cowboy turned aviator, who carried his old western six-guns at his side in France. He wanted me to do a series of this character, Smoke Wade, every month, for which he would pay me 1½¢ a word.

This meant we could count on about $200 a month—a near fortune in 1932—for that one novelette (a few days work at the most), besides all the other short stories I might turn out and sell.

Plan Collapses

“Our joy lasted nearly a week. Then came a letter from the editor saying the publishers had decided to discontinue the magazine. Not only was I out of doing the sure-fire series for him, but he, the editor, was suddenly out of work himself. So went the magazine business.^[3]

“During those uncertain times, when stories were more likely not to sell than to sell, probably no tenant ever had a more sympathetic, understanding landlord than Ben Simmons.”

Hogan, who learned to fly during World War I and had worked as a cow puncher earlier in his career, used his personal experiences as backgrounds for his stories. At this period he was writing a lot of World War I air stories for Popular Publications and they had been going over fairly well. One day in 1933 the publisher called him in and suggested Hogan try his hand at writing a full book-length novel and a short story or two to fill a magazine.

“Driving home to 40 Bank street from Manhattan, everything began to click into place. Popular had a magazine called Battle Aces that was doing fairly well, but they would like to switch that title to a new magazine if possible.

G-8 Is Born

“Various branches of the Army, I knew, were designated as Gl, G-2, and so forth. Why not G-8, the Master American Flying Spy? Pilots I had known in my flying days came to mind, and from these developed the characters that were to appear in my stories. Then, what about the first novel?

“How about a gigantic German plane in the shape of a bat spewing the most poisonous gas over the unsuspecting countryside? As I drove up Main street in Sussex, along Clove avenue and into the yard, I thought of the title for the first G-8 story: The Bat Staffel (staffel being German for squadron).”

And so, the G-8 series was conceived and born, a series in which G-8 fought monsters with tentacles, men with beast brains, flying zombies, marching skeletons, mad scientists, mysterious gas, flying bombs, monster tanks with spiked treads and flame throwers, armored dirigibles and magnetic rays.

The fertile Hogan brain pulled out all stops and went to work in high gear. “I began to bang out The Bat Staffel in the little room upstairs at the rear of the hall overlooking Clove avenue. My desk was an old kitchen table found in the cellar. Ben Simmons gave us permision to glue it together and put a pressedwood top on it.”

The first of about 100 novels for G-8 and His Battle Aces was written and in the mail to the publishers in eight days. The publishers liked it and asked when he could start on the second G-8 novel.

Assistance Needed

Then Hogan realized he would need some assistance because he had committments for better than 100,000 words each month in other smaller series that were running at the same time. A secretary to take dictation was necessary.

Doris Wilson (now Mrs. Robert Hardin) had just been graduated from business school and was looking for work. She was hired to take dictation. When work piled up and more help was needed, Doris recommended a friend, Willeta Johnson, now Mrs. Harold Knoblauch

Recalling these hectic days, Hogan reports:

“One secretary would come over in the morning. I’d dictate two chapters, to her. and the other would arrive after lunch, and I’d dictate two chapters to her. It was up to them to get together and come up with a complete book. They told me later that often the one who had finished transcribing at home would wait for the other to return from dictation to learn what happened in her two chapters.”

Hogan’s publisher pushed him for copy. He was told not to bother edititing or rewriting — “Don’t even read it; just turn it out and mail it.” And he did.

“I have yet to read a G-8 story,” he says. “Wonder if they were any good?”

All Over the World

Good or bad, the G-8 stories were widely read all over the world, and although the writing was aimed at teenage boys, the writer had fans of all ages during the decade the series flourished. It was estimated by the circulation department that G-8 and His Battle Aces had more readers at its peak than all the boys book series out together.

As the words flowed out and the money flowed in, the Hogans began to think of building their own home, and they ultimately settled on Lake Mohawk. They spent nearly a year in Florida while the new home was under construction, and when they returned, Hogan continued his prolific writing, then with the secretarial assistance of Dorothy Brooks, later to become Mrs. Harold Puffer.

The advent of World War II and rising magazine production costs brought the G-8 series to an end. Hogan then turned to slick magazines, westerns, juveniles and television. One of his westerns became a movie, The Stand at Apache River. His juvenile novel, Howl at the Moon, is considered a classic boy-dog story. Many of his books have been translated into foreign languages.

But somehow, good old violent, bloodcurdling G-8 doesn’t seem to want to stay dead. There now appears to be a rapidly growing demand for reprints of G-8 and His Battle Aces in paper backs, and, as might be expected from the subject matter, television programers are showing interest in the old stories.

Born in Buskirk, N.Y., son of a Dutch Reformed minister, Hogan was educated at Blair Academy, St. Lawrence University and Harvard University. After college he drifted west and rode the range for a while before enlisting in the air branch of the U.S. Signal Corps (the forerunner of the U.S. Air Force) in January, 1918. He was discharged in November, 1918, and after that went into the business of flying and selling planes.

With a rented typewriter ($3.50 a month) he started his writing career in Florida in 1930 after reading a few stories in a pulp magazine and deciding he could do just as well. He did.

• Download “Lurid Plots Hatched In Sussex Boro, p.6″ (21 October 1962, Newton, NJ Sunday Herald)
• Download “Lurid Plots Hatched In Sussex Boro, p.7″ (21 October 1962, Newton, NJ Sunday Herald)

Frederick Blakeslee painted the covers for Dare-Devil Aces‘ entire fourteen year run. Every one of those covers told a story, and Blakeslee had a page with which to do so. This week’s Dare-Devil Aces cover picks up the story where last month’s “The Flaming Coffin” left off. Here is Blakeslee’s cover for the May 1933 issue—”Duel of the Bombers!”

THIS COVER shows what happened to the second of the two bombers pictured on last month’s cover. The ships involved were Vickers “Vimys,” but in order not to repeat types on consecutive covers, we showed a Graham-White on last month’s cover, which I shall call “A” and the ship on this month’s cover “B.”

Just as fire developed in the motor of A, a Gotha, accompanied by a flock of fighting ships, appeared. The crew of B were intent on the approaching ships and did not notice when A left. There is no doubt that these two ships could have held their own with this strong German force if they had been together.

The Germans left the Gotha and flew out to meet the Englishmen, some of them attacking the retreating A and the rest going for B. It was not until they were surrounded that the crew of B discovered they were alone. There were about eleven German fighting ships attacking them and the pilot, remembering that discretion is the better part of valor, decided it was time to retire. Dropping his load of bombs in order to lighten the ship, he attempted to turn. The Germans, curiously enough, had not pressed the attack, but any attempt made by the bomber to turn, sent them at it like a swarm of bees.

At last the pilot saw the point of such tactics. The scouts were holding the big ship at bay, so that the Gotha could come up to witness the kill. The pilot decided therefore that either there was a high officer aboard or the Gotha was going to make the kill itself. So he did not attempt to turn until the Gotha was quite close. There he gave his big ship the gun. With a roar the bomber whirled about and dove past the Gotha’s bow. Disregarding the scouts who, recovering from surprise, were attacking in dead earnest, the crew of the Vimy brought every gun to bear on the Gotha.

A rain of flaming slugs tore into the big ship. Instantly flames shot from the port motor and the Gotha tipped up and began its death dive. To add a final touch, a scout, getting in the line of fire, dove with a dead pilot into the falling Gotha. Appalled by the tragedy the entire German squadron withdrew and the British bomber flew home and landed safely.

“Duel of the Bombers: The Story Behind The Cover” by Frederick M. Blakeslee (May 1933)

Check back again. We will be presenting more of Blakeslee’s Stories behind his cover illustrations.

Back with another of Eugene Frandzen’s Lives of the Aces in Pictures from Flying Aces Magazine. The series ran for almost four years with a different Ace featured each month. This week it’s Lt. William Portwood Erwin, featured in the May 1934 issue.

Erwin was assigned to the 1st Observation Squadron in July of 1918. Flying Salmson 2A2s, he and his observers are credited with eight victories! He was awarded the Distinguished Service Crossfor extrodinary heroism in action in the Chateau-Thierry and St Mihiel Salients theaters. And for a dangerous infantry liaison mission at night that he had volunteered for—on his third day with the 1st Observation, he recieved the French Croix de Guerre!

He continued in aviation after the war, conducting a flying school at Love Field, Dallas.

The Dole Air Race of 1927—a race from California to Hawaii. While searching for two lost air race planes and their passengers, he was last heard radio that his plane went into a tail spin and he called for help about 592 miles out in the Pacific Ocean. His plane, “Dallas Spirit” and its occupants were never found.

• Download “Lives of the Aces in Pictures – Part 23: William P. Erwin (May 1934, Flying Aces)

Frederick Blakeslee painted the covers for Dare-Devil Aces‘ entire fourteen year run. Every one of those covers told a story, and Blakeslee had a page with which to do so. Although this time we get a story that’s not quite the story of the cover, but still a good story. This week it’s Blakeslee’s cover for the April 1933 issue of Dare-Devil Aces—”The Flaming Coffin!”

TWO British planes left on a bombing raid that was not only unsuccessful but that gave the pilots more fighting and trouble in five minutes than they had had all through the war.

The difficulties started soon after leaving, when one of the bombers developed engine trouble. Its companion slowed down to stay with it, and their escort flew ahead. No sooner were they alone than they espied a Gotha approaching accompanied by a flock of fighting ships. Almost at the same moment fire broke out in the laboring motor of the first bomber and it was compelled to turn about, leaving the other to fight alone. Then began a race against fire and destruction to regain the lines. The crew dropped their load of bombs and exhausted their fire extinguishers only to have the fire break out with renewed fury.

They could not maneuver because of the fire and when the flames got beyond control, it became necessary to land. How the crew escaped from the resulting wreck which was instantly a raging furnace, no one knows, but all succeeded in regaining the lines to safety. The bomber shown on the cover is a Grahame-White E IV “Ganymede.” This is not the type involved in the above episode. It did not fly in France, having been designed prior to the signing of the Armistice. However, it is a War type craft and very interesting in construction. It had a double fuselage with a central nacelle between. It had three motors and three gunpits and carried a crew of six. The principle dimensions are as follows: Span 89′-3″; length 49′-9″; height 16′; Chord 10′-3″; Gap 9′-3″. Its speed low down was 105 mph. and at 10,000 ft. 93 mph. with a landing speed of 52 mph. It weighed, when fully loaded, 16,000 lbs.

“The Flaming Coffin: The Story Behind The Cover” by Frederick M. Blakeslee (April 1933)

Check back again next Thursday for the continuation of this story on May’s cover!