Time now to look at one of the biggest stars of wrestling: a man who had the crowds booing, hissing and paying to see him in the ring and on TV.
I am of course talking about Gorgeous George...
George Raymond Wagner was born in Nebraska in 1915. Age 17 he was paid 35 cents to wrestle at a carnival. When his amateur wrestling coach found out he kicked him out, furious that he was now a "professional wrestler."
Wagner was 'only' 5ft 9in tall and weighed 215 pounds, but he was athletic and technically solid. By 1938 he had won his first title.
But what transformed Wagner's career - indeed the whole sport of pro wrestling - was 'Lord' Patrick Lansdowne, a wrestler with an amazing gimmick: he entered the ring accompanied by two valets while wearing a velvet robe and doublet. He wanted a crowd reaction, and he got it!
Wagner took Lansdowne's idea of a pre-match performance and turned it up to 11. In 1941 he died his hair platinum blonde, wore elaborate capes and baited the crowd. Gorgeous George was born...
No one had seen anything quite like it: he would enter the arena to his own theme music - Pomp and Circumstance - along with a butler who sprayed the ring with perfume. A purple spotlight would follow Gorgeous George, reflecting off the gold bobby pins in his platinum hair.
Gorgeous George's showmanship was heaven sent for TV sports, which had begun to see pro wrestling as a lucrative - and easy to televise - opportunity. Now they had an outlandish star that the public loved to hate to help draw in the viewers.
But Gorgeous George could also wrestle: he won the American Wrestling Association World Title in 1950 and soon became one of the highest paid stars of the sport.
He also made it into movies, starring in the 1949 film Alias The Champ as a wrestler who wouldn't knuckle under to the New York Mob.
George retired from wrestling in 1962 to become a gentleman farmer in Beaumont, promoting his own range of turkeys and running his own restaurant.
Over the years many other wrestlers have emulated the showmanship and swagger of Gorgeous George Wagner. He set the template for what a bad boy wrestler should be: haughty, proud, outrageous and dazzling.
So let's hear it for Georgeous George: the Golden Age wrestler with the platinum wave. Pulp salutes you sir - now let's get ready to rumble...
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Today in pulp: a tale of an unintentionally radical publisher. It only produced 42 books between 1968-9, but it caught the hedonistic, solipsistic, free love mood of the West Coast freakout scene like no other.
This is the story of Essex House...
Essex House was an offshoot of Parliament Press, a California publishing company set up by pulp artist Milton Luros after the market for pulp magazines began to decline. It specialised in stag magazines sold through liquor stores, to skirt around US obscenity publishing laws.
By the 1960s Parliament Press was already selling pornographic novels through its Brandon House imprint, though these were mostly reprints or translations of existing work. Luros was interested in publishing new erotic authors, and set up Essex House to do just that.
Today in pulp... one of my favourite SF authors: Harry Harrison!
Harry Harrison was born Stamford, Connecticut, in 1925. He served in the US Army Air Corps during WWII, but became disheartened with military life. In his spare time he learned Esperanto.
Harrison started his sci-fi career as an illustrator, working with Wally Wood on Weird Fantasy and Weird Science up until 1950. He also wrote for syndicated comic strips, including Flash Gordon and Rick Random.
Today in pulp... Blade Runner! Let's look back at the classic 1982 movie and see how it compares to original novel.
"It's not an easy thing to meet your maker..."
Blade Runner is based on Philip K. Dick's 1968 novel Do Androids Dream Of Electric Sheep? However 'inspired' may be a better word, as the film is very different to the book.
In the novel Deckard is a bounty hunter for the San Francisco police. The year is 1992; Earth has been ravaged by war and humans are moving to off-world colonies to protect their genetic integrity. They are given organic robots to help them, created by the Rosen Association.
In the 1970s a fascinating engineering battle took place between America and Japan for control of the future. The prize was the world we live in now. And one of the key battles took place on your wrist.
This is the story of the digital watch...
'Digital' is a magical marketing word. Like 'laser' or 'turbo' it suggests progress, mastery and the future. People like those ideas. They like them enough to spend a lot of money on products that have them, especially if they can be a first adopter.
And so it was with the wristwatch. Electronic quartz watches were already a thing by the 1960s: an analogue movement driven by a quartz crystal resonator, powered by a small button battery.
But one American company was setting out on a new timekeeping odyssey...
Today in pulp... let's look back at a Shōjo manga artist whose work celebrated friendships between women: Jun'ichi Nakahara.
Jun'ichi Nakahara was born in Higashikagawa in 1913 and worked as an illustrator, a fashion designer and a doll maker. His work is highly regarded in Japan and he was a significant influence on modern manga art.
In the '20s and '30s Nakahara often drew for Shōjo no Tomo ("Girl's Friend") magazine. The style at the time was for demure, dreamlike imagery, but Nakahara added to this large expressive eyes, often reflecting the light.
Today in pulp I try to decipher 1980s Japanese street style, with the help of Olive: The Magazine for Romantic Girls!
This may involve frills...
Street style is an ever-changing mix of styles, brands, attitudes and poses with various influences. And you normally have to be in the right place at the right time to capture it.
Which is where magazines come in! Photograping, documenting and deconstructing fashion never goes out of style, and in the late 1970s Japanese youth had one key guide to help them: Popeye!