Sweet Music Centre

Today’s generation of readers may not realize that some of there favorite rollicking, sinister, dark, courageous or heroic classic stories were written during the pulp fiction era of the early 1900s up to the 1950s.

The pulps literally got its name from the cheap wood pulp paper they were printed on to keep costs down so that people in the depressed economy from the World War II could afford cheap entertainment. It was hugely successful and had a good fifty year run of some of the best stories we’ve had to date.

What is interesting about reading some of these great old classics is that you can fully visualize and experience the culture as it was back then. Before cars we had horse drawn carriages, language of today is quite different from fifty to one hundred years ago and the role of men and women have changed greatly over this time period.

When you read a pulp fiction story you often have the scenario of black and white, such as good against evil, the black hat being the bad guy and the white hat the good guy. It was a no holds bar style of writing that was a new experience for the average reader. It was also a time when new genres of writing appeared which electrified readers and caused somewhat of an addiction to particular characters and stories. Hard boiled detective stories hit the magazine stands as well as macabre pulps, fantasy and science fiction, weird menace, spicy pulps, horror and dark fantasy, westerns, mystery and romance and many other sub-genres. It was also the birth of the super hero which we seem to have an obsession with. Many of the super heroes we see in movies are based on characters created by pulp fiction writers such as super man, batman, the invisible man etc. Today’s novels tend to lean more to small nuances that thread through a story as apposed to the pulps hard knocking fast talking pulps.

Many of pulp fictions heroic characters were flawed with criminal intent and immoral behavior but despite that, we find ourselves drawn into their endearing qualities and route for their eventual success. Case in point: the Sherlock Holmes character (from the early books and movies) was a cocaine addict and had no qualms about lying to police if he felt it would bring him closer to solving a case he was working on but despite his eccentricities, we still cheer when he gets his man!

My mother always told me to take care of my brother, and this I tried; I let him have his way much of the time, and played with him when invited to play with others. I was his best friend, simply because of the fact that he had no friends. I tried to change this one day, when mom was at the shop; inviting my friend Timothy over to play cowboys in our yard, thinking this would help introduce my brother to the “outside world” and make him friends. At about ten in the morning, the day of, our bell rang. I darted from the den, where my brother and I were watching westerns, no doubt, up the slender staircase and opened the door to see a thin boy with black hair, smiling as he moved his hands down to a giant belt buckle with a cow skull on it, surely bragging. I payed no mind to this though, ignorance had been something I’d mastered, having to consistently back down in fights with my brother, at the discretion of my mom. “Hey Timmo!” We all had nicknames at school. “Hey Art, how are ya today, part-ner?” Slyly saying the last part, hands on his buckle, a useless attempt to get me started on it again. “Can you wait ’round back while I get my brother?” “Sure. Never knew you had a brother though- how come you never told me you had a brother?” I stood for a second like a deer in the headlights. “Guess it never came up.” I lied. “Oh… Guess not! I’ll see ya ’round back then.”

I had been dating this girl for a few months. I didn’t know where things were going, but I was only 18 so I didn’t really know what to expect. I had graduated high school the spring before, and my family was considering a move across the country to Colorado. It was a big point of transition in my life and I wasn’t sure a girlfriend was what I needed. I would either have to break things off or suffer through the 1200 miles between Indianapolis and Denver.

During those first months, she had already beaten me at bowling and putt-putt, visited me at work only to vomit all over the dinner she had just ordered, and even come dressed as a prostitute to a Halloween party – at church. Of course I didn’t mind any of these things, and the hooker costume was actually a good conversation starter, but she was unlike any girl I had ever dated. In all honesty, it wasn’t hard to be unlike the other girls when there were really only two before her. I wasn’t exactly a “player,” so to speak.

We were taking things easy which seemed to work out for both of us. I was working two jobs and volunteering quite a bit of my time to the church youth group, and she was still in high school. Yes, I was “robbing the cradle.” So we would only hang out a few times a week, just doing random stuff like watching movies or going to the mall. Nothing spectacularly creative on my end, but we still enjoyed each other’s company to the point where we didn’t really care what we were doing. We just liked to hang out together.

It wasn’t until February 14th rolled around that our relationship catapulted to a whole new level. It was actually a level that I hadn’t been to in any other relationship, and I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

As always we didn’t really have a plan for the evening, and hadn’t really thought ahead. I had no idea that restaurants everywhere were going to be absurdly packed or that I needed to dress up a little more fancy than I normally did. I kind of just “showed up.”

It occurred in suburbia far removed from the city where there is a prevalent sense of safety, security and happiness until this one fateful moonless night.

It had been a common sight to see the rear porch light of Brice and Lillie’s house on all night. There never were any others in the neighborhood that joined in on this nightly ritual. This neighborhood was situated in the Colorado community of Centennial.

Brice and Lillie’s house was in a newly established portion of Centennial that most considered in the “country” as there was little urbanization in that area. This area was surrounded by major highways and roadways where Brice and Lillie’s porch light had become a beacon in the night.

The twist to this tale takes shape clean across the country where the perpendicular path begins with Sissy, Billy and Mark. Sissy is the oldest sister of Billy the youngest and Mark the mean one.

Billy and Mark have been in reform school working the dairy farm where the two of them were granted a weekend furlough to go visit their sister in Portland. Sissy drove to Salem in her ramshackle Granada to pick the boys up. Once on the road to Portland the boys announced to Sissy they were done with the “joint” and not going back.

Sissy tried to reason with them but could not bring about any sense to them. When they arrived in Portland the boys took off while Sissy was gassing the car. Later that evening the boys show up in a nice Cadillac Accolade telling her that this would be the last they would see her for they were heading off to Mexico. In her best big sister way she asked them just how were they going to do that being broke with no money in their pocket.

Mark with a big grin spreading across his face motioned to Sissy that she should follow him outside to their newly acquired vehicle. Going to the back of the vehicle he opens it up and throws back a blanket revealing a pile of guns and ammunition. Any other questions, he asks Sissy?

Troubled and concerned for the safety of her brothers she told them that she was going with them, while thinking to herself that somewhere down the line she would bring about some reason to them where they would end up doing the right thing.

Martin Graham scrutinized the case history files for Albert Morton, forwarded by the Federal Corrections Department. Finding no evidence that would allow a Judge to sign an order detaining him in the country. The file also provided the trial details of Morton’s conviction; still, giving him no leads as to why Kayn was displaying such irrational behavior on this man.

He sent Kayn another confirmation that there were no circumstances that would allow his office to apply for a restraining order. His desktop curser was flashing with a high priority communication from NATO going to all Federal Security Agencies reporting that Chanarong Montri and Kim Chan So were believed to be in Naples, Italy. It further reported that security informants confirmed that AOC agents were enroute to Naples.

As Martin scanned the communication logs and it became obvious, over and above the security agents already in Naples for the Economic Conference, there was about to be an aerial tsunami of international enormity descending onto the tarmac at the Aeroporto di Napoli. He picked up his travelling bag and left for the departure gate at the International Airport, enroute to Naples.

Travelling 37,000 feet over the north Atlantic ocean Albert was busy reviewing the Italian chronicles as Robert rested in the adjacent seat. He had spoken with Harry earlier in the day and learnt about the confrontation that had taken place with Kayn; he had not yet relayed this information to Robert.
Alyssa would be so full of pride knowing the genuine man Robert was developing into.

Albert closed his diary after documenting and planning his tours of southern Italy on this trip; perhaps in his exuberance he had indeed overextended his destinations. He slipped it into his attaché and removed a small bundle of letters that he kept close to him; letters from past colleagues at the University, all encouraging his return to the classroom; letters from Gordon at Fraser Lake, as always supporting him in his new ventures and old letters from Alyssa, received while at Fraser Lake. He read line by line and finally, comforted by kind thoughts and words, sleep came to him.

He woke feeling the heat of the sun streaming through the windows of the cabin. David had risen earlier and was working from the turn down table at his chair.

“Good Morning David, did you sleep well?”