A Wintertime Affair w/ Greenleaf Paperbacks

[Greenleaf] Nightstand Books
No publisher (early issues), then San Diego, CA. Lurid paperbacks published by William Hamling in the 1960s, one of many imprints w/ pink or yellow spines, & early work by writers like William Knoles, Donald E. Westlake, Lawrence Block, Andrew J. Offutt, & John Jakes. Cover art was primarily Robert Bonfils, Macauley, & a few others. Lurid but still without certain 4-letter words until closer to 1970. A fantastic example of early Greenleaf/Corinth.
Hundreds of similar items have gone from one palm to the other in a matter of days. Winter here is not so much what's going on outside, because there isn't much of anything, but more focusing on what's more important inside, away from the light, like these little collectible pocket vampires. When there's not enough snow for your children to be impressed by, & when each photo snapped of them in the elements could be interpreted as a turn-of-the-century stereoview, it's time to nurture the Inner Self.

Popular themes explored:

• Mountainside infidelity. 
• Call girls, murder. 
• Dance studio sin. 
• Driving instructor sins.
• Florida prostitution. 
• Burlesque, murder. Soho London. 
• Wall Street. 
• Ex-child actor caught up in sin.
• GI vice south of the border.
• Burlesque, gambling.
• Lusty co-eds. 
• Depraved swingers.
• Small town vice. 
• Tabloid newspaper industry. 
• Lusty real estate agent. 
• Big business, stolen money.
• Grifting.
• Yachts, Jersey City.
• Lesbiana, insatiable wives.
• Lesbiana, gold-diggers.
• Writer swapping.
• Male lawyer escapades.
• Lusty cruise, lesbiana. 
• Revenge, gold heist, murder. 
• Lesbiana, swinging. 
• Jamaica, murder.
• Insatiable housewife.
• Murder mystery backwoods.
• Ad execs.
• Insurance industry, nymphomaniac.

Paul Rader and His Curves

I am referring to Isaac Paul Rader, the illustrator/artist, and not to Dr. Paul Rader, or the evangelist. Isaac Paul Rader was a Brooklyn native and one of the youngest (age 16) artists to have work exhibited at an art museum. He studied instruction in Europe, came back to the US to get married, and began finding work in the periodical market. Redbook, Family Circle, and a slough of men's magazines throughout the 1940s and 1950s helped the man keep his family in bread. This work, often only a two-page spread of maybe an illustration in white and another color, blue or black or gray or red, would have slightly more meaning to the story than his various paperback covers. The hardcore Rader fans, including his daughter (who collects material related to her father), know which periodicals contain his illustrations, what they might be worth, and why they are important. For the average Rader fan, including those for whom sleaze paperback collecting is a hobby or a compulsion, most of the found work comes on the covers of Midwood paperbacks, a publication out of New York, and an imprint of Tower Publications. For an in-depth biographical, and bibliographic(al), account, see Lynn Munroe's Paul Rader checklist.

There are a few things one notices about Paul Rader's paperback artwork, upon initial observation: the subject matter tends to have great depth, the backgrounds are usually one-color backdrops (reminiscent of early color erotic photography), the subjects themselves are usually women...women exuding a mysterious power over you, the observer, or her male counterpart, if there there happens to be one. Often Rader covers  portray a few women, all with stellar bodies and cute faces, although some can be said to radiate a Black Widow-type of eeriness. Another great aspect to the covers, at the least with the Midwood titles, the publisher allowed his artwork to retain his signature. I can think of a few others to whom was granted the same respect: Robert Maguire, Robert McGinnis (rarely), Barye Phillips, Rafael DeSoto....on another note, Robert Bonfils covers almost never display a signature, and one is left to wonder, however with a relative ease as Bonfils stuck to a few publishers. Thankfully, Rader stuck only to a few publishers during his tenure in the sleaze market. Midwood ranks as the publisher with the most Rader covers commissioned, ORIGINAL covers that is; many other publishers had Rader redo the art from Midwood for their "adult" novels. Midwood generated "adult" themes, but more "adult" language and situations adorn the later Rader paperbacks, notably those publications after 1970. For a tasty selection here, I have chosen a few Midwood titles, some I consider to be some of the greatest work by Rader and contenders for great covers of all time. I might tackle that topic another time; I might not.

$ 75 - Near Fine
Pretty Puppet
Dallas Mayo
Midwood Books number F-371, 1964

Referring again to depth employed by the artist, Rader's skin tones give credence to his mastership, perhaps the best of the "realist" paperback illustrators. Here, we have two lovelies, and the expected bland background. Maybe this was a tactic of Rader's, to help draw focus to the tits, the lips, the eyes, and the hair; all great components of a truly erotic Rader cover. Regarding the eroticism of Rader art: to me it seems the man had a uniquely elegant respect of women, chose models to fit his educational expertise, and viewed erotic situations with a sense of humor. With "Pretty Puppet," I am sure the lady up front, perky as hell and slim-hipped, is the bait, and a great feast she is. Afterwards, when you have taken her all in and enjoyed each shadow on her arms and face, and the cute blond curls that incline you to speculate her age, you notice thin blue lines, and they lead up to another delicate hand at the helm, somehow controlling the hot blonde's every move. I like this cover quite a bit, for its bold colors in shadow, its composition which works its magic like Houdini, and its almost theoretical and subtly bondage-themed elements. I view this piece as a Rader variant; straying from the normal "lady with boobs, a hungry dude, and maybe a cigarette or two." This cover plays with the imagination and self-implicative responses more than a lot of other Midwoods, more than a lot of things. Rader knew what a collar bone was and what it meant to the looker, he knew how thin women's fingers were but also was aware of their complete exactitude, and he was not afraid to make the looker mad with arousal, showing everything up to that which makes the looker mad. A lesbian-esque novel with a lesbian-esque cover which beckons the question: does she dance for her or for him?

$ 50 - Very Good plus
Campus Kittens
Joan Ellis
Midwood Books number 32-417, 1964

The red head here (is she the one with the reins on "Pretty Puppet"? my eyes say yes, my heart a hard NO) is possibly my favorite Rader female. Not sure if it's the towel, held mysteriously in place by what? a safety-pin? Yeah...I keep my bath towels secure that way, too...... chip clips work as well, dearie.... or if it's the long red hair this campus cat works, or those killer hips that lead me to believe that in another life I was that towel. She might be the curviest Rader dame I've seen, and he has given the world some curvy fuckin' dames. These twists and turns take you on a ride similar-tho-different from that romp given us by Maguire, McGinnis, and Bonfils, not to mention the really sleazy artists, Eric Stanton (dangerous curves), Eugene Bilbrew (murderous), and Bill Ward (playful and purposeful). The only thing against this cover would be the two other lasses in the background. Yes, the leg up in thigh-highs is nice. Yes, the feline with the short black bob making herself comfortable, in true kitten form, in a mountain of pillows is nice... oh, to be a plush Harem throw pillow! The red background helps against the yellow letters in the title. All of these are nice. But gimme a cover with that rusty wren dead-center, no title text, leave the Midwood club at the top, and leave the other kittens out, and I'm set. The artist's use of light is no ghost here, it's in full regalia, and ready to spank your eyes. The cups on our kitten are enough to give  us spastic arthritis in the hands, but I think, and I might be jumping from a height previously unjumped, I think the hips here are the real peanut butter. They make the whole thing stick.
PS-notice the lack of an "R" or "Rader."

$ 75 - Very Good plus
The Cruel Touch
Alan Marshal (a good chance Donald E. Westlake)
Midwood Books number F-259

This cover is examined on the sole basis of it creepiness. Rader attacked the look of a women in a way it made the reader scared to even hold the damn book, but he did it sparsely. This might be the surest representation of a Black Widow from our artist, the black locks, the thick, THICK lashes and eyebrows, this bitch wants to hurt someone or something. Luckily, the target of her anger, lust, and degradation, has been caught in her web, and she's about to sink in her fangs. To discern her happiness is difficult, and to discern her prey's, more so. Is he about to administer the lucky tongue of death? Is she checking for ticks? A true Widow wants a clean kill. Admittedly, this cover does not turn me on. I dig her cans, and I dig her dress, and her sweet lips, but her jawline and her cringing fingers do frighten me. Not saying a woman can't take control once in a while, in fact it's suggested, but a woman who wants a slave is not my bag. The rear cover does a bit more for me: "The eyes were glowing hotly and her pale-skinned body seemed to be throbbing. 'I want you to do something dirty to me. Something filthy. Something wild.'" Anything you say, my Queen.

I dig Rader. I dig him a lot. I dig his women, his situational humor, his attention to detail otherwise unseen, his precision. The women are always round in the right spots.

CURRENTs: Alexis Texas and Cassandra Cologera, "Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow," Pantera. 

I'm aT IT again...

Back at it, the entire process of narrowing and honing and zeroing and compressing. The subject matter is always delightful, and even the hour(s) it might take to fulfill my mental hard-on is well spent. This time we climb the Everest of sleazy cover art, scale a few more miles upward, beyond the valley of desire and passed the small watering hole where possibly birds stop to sup, climbing and gasping for oxygen the whole way, until we reach our summit...or rather, summits. We may have lost a few along the way, succumbing to the elements of flesh, the dangerous curves and dips, the hot valleys where we almost lost our entire supply of H2O, ne'er a rag to sop our sweat, but the Gods of Grease and Lords of Lust were with us from beginning to end. This time they bring us to girls of gold, knelt Heathers, twin sisters from either side of the tracks, and a full-fledged innocent trapped inside a guilty pleasure. Tantalizing and titillating, our next group consists again of four top contestants, each with something different to offer, but all judged accordingly and unbiasedly. Judy Garland moves this moment along, as I type to "The Far Away Part of Town"...

Best of BREASTS FOR OUR GUESTS

$ 75 - Very Good Plus
Virtuoso Virgin
Alan Marshall (most often, Donald E. Westlake)
Candid Reader number CA936, 1968

The first thing to grab the viewer (I assume I can speak for everybody; perks of the position) is the bright color the artist (Darrel Millsap, called in to help Robert Bonfils fill the orders at Greenleaf) chose to offset the somewhat monochrome feeling of his central figures: a still effective black and white. Soon following is the outrageous, proto-pornstar outfit the white-haired hussy dons with a smile. If ever there were a more useful piece of lingerie, sought highly by only the prime of crab fisherman and aquaculturists, we'd be astonished. But it's clear how the stacked slapper keeps the local dredgers from snapping it clean off, the abdominal lace tied up right. The third thing to attract attention is TADA! the splendid rack, which not only captures our attention, but that of the two partying drinkers, as if the classy concubine knows she's the shizit and as if the dapper dude is telling himself she's the shizit. One gets the feeling these two know each other! One gets the feeling they're both happy to be at a pad with such fantastic wallpaper! One gets the feeling they'll both lose their threads after downing that pitcher of martini the virtuous vamp stirs, and perhaps she'll give his so-subtle sky-blue neckerchief a good tug! This cover has it all, from the sweet club Polo on "Steve," to the eye-white mane on "Susan," and the righteous curves "Steve" so lovingly holds onto. Witness the microscopic gumdrop leading us to the author's name in blue.  ALASKAN KING CRAB FEAST (on the house)

$ 75 - About Fine
Good Girl Bad Girl
Don Elliott (Robert Silverbeg)
Nightstand Books number NB1751, 1965

Two for the price of one! A quadruple-whopper double-whammy! Never has so much flesh been so Barbie-like! Our gumdrops are still present, even the black and white simpleness of the accessories, and the full color background. We can wonder if these two broads are at the same party as the two above, or modeling for a mustard-mopped photographer with an entourage and an undying smile. For your consideration, "Susie" and "Ruthie." To all those Susans and Suzannes and Susies out there, my hat goes off, far off and far-out, for you lovelies held many an evening session of masturbatory fantasies for the coterie of professional sleaze writers just trying to make it to the next bottle of Pernod. The two doppelgangers seem somehow sweet, somehow joyous of their precarious situation. Now we know what stiffened up the Tin Man so quickly at the Yellow Brick Road! A good girl and a bad girl. Take your pick. It seems the topmost girl has fallen asleep, and the lowermost is quite proud of her summits. Something makes the viewer yearn for more, as if the naughty knockers were naught but teasers, for what's happening below the waist gets the exocrine glands working overtime. However enticing the stems may be, the buds are always where the elixir sits, where we wait our turn to ask for but a nip at the flavor of life. That flavor comes from a berry with tannins of both good and evil. PS- I love the lowermost's pink panties. FOUR PINK STARS

$ 75 - Near Fine
Heather on the Lawn
Fred Malloy
Nitime Swapbooks number NS425, 1971

A book that took yours truly truly a while to procure. I say a while in terms of anticipation, seeing it in one place, letting it slide, and taking my sweet-ass (oh, and it IS sweet) time to find the only other copy available at the time; there may be another one on the market now, who knows. This "Heather" came to me under no preconceived notions about the art, just that it made my psyche rust solid like Jack Haley on his mettle (see any link to The Wizard of Oz, I won't provide you one). The first thing a seer sees is an odd light source, almost like the moon. It hits Heather's raven-black hair, it his her sapphire dress with the slinking-down straps, her bare calves and heels, and, most importantly, her chestnut chest with the peeking tan lines. I truly dig that Bonfils spends all of his energy on his starlets and the company just comes as an afterthought. But every inch of his art is as integral as the preceding and the proceeding. The two onlookers in director's chairs are having just as much fun as the two on the lawn, they even get to commentate. Witness the pink pretty's sneakpeak of white underthings! Envy the mustard-mopped man at the helm and his observation. A'hole matey! She could be nude beneath, she could not be. Let's speculate instead why she is smiling, how late it is where she is, who does their landscaping, and what nationality our Heather could be; let's leave this party for some bocce ball at another get-together, but let's imprint those tan-lines before we go. MOON MEDALLION

$ 20 - Near Fine
The Golden Girls
Kevin North
Playtime Books number 609, 1962

My last effort at completely womanizing a few selections from my collection of sleaze, completely bastardizing the literary world of illustration, completely kneeling before the cover artists and their models, I'M NOT WORTHY! I'M NOT WORTHY! - comes at a cost. I can not look at this cover without somehow wishing I was horse food. This is what actually happened when a superhuman being landed from the planet Krypton and was stumbled upon by a hapless farmer in a field in the middle West somewhere. The cost is not monetary, it's ancillary. The cost comes not from the wallet but from the gullet, and clutches the windpipes before asking if we're all ready to face the music. AND oh how convenient the wind seems to be churning the grains! Dig the red tresses, dig the long lashes and the boulder opals, dig the upside-down apex at the meeting of her back and ass, and reap the perfect shadow dead-center of our golden girl. These might be the healthiest mamms Bonfils have given history. Apparently this book is actually about female wheat harvesters and their "giant combines." By day they reap grain, by night they reap...well, probably cock. It's obvious what I recognize this cover with. GOLDEN GLOBE