Those Detective
Fiction
Weekly Mugs, by Terry Sanford
While Detective
Fiction Weekly (hereafter: DFW)
is one of the most reasonably priced detective pulp magazines today,
putting together a collection of them is somewhat onerous. With
predecessors and successors, the magazine ran as a weekly for about
eighteen years, then went monthly for several more years, making the
complete run about one thousand mags.
It began
eighty years ago as Flynn’s, within two years it was
called Flynn’s
Weekly, then a
year later Flynn’s Weekly
Detective
Fiction. It was finally
reborn as DFW in 1928 until WWII paper
shortages in 1942 caused its change to a monthly named Flynn’s Detective, soon to be
stretched to Flynn’s Detective
Fiction until it stopped in
1944. There was a six-issue
rebirth in 1951 as Detective Fiction.
My emphasis in collecting DFW
is for the stories. In that context, let’s take a look at the
bang you get for your buck with DFW...
Lawrence
Treat’s 1949 novel V As In Victim is considered to
be the first American police procedural novel, a sub-genre where Ed
McBain reigns as the standard bearer today. However in 1925, Victor Maxwell began a series
featuring Detective Sgt. Riordan and harness bull Sgt. Halloran, the
latter affectionately dubbed “Ya big lummox.” This series
continued into the 1940’s in DFW
under its various names.
These
stories were well done with intelligently
handled cases, although filled with Riordan’s particular
vernacular. These yarns were set in a fictional mid-size
city. Little is known about Victor Maxwell and the name is
thought by some to be a pseudonym. There were dozens of these
tales in short story and novelette form over the series’ seventeen-year
run. (Halloran and Riordan are the two gents pictured here to the
right and below, stalwart fellows both.)
Donald
Barr Chidsey, later an
acclaimed adventure writer, gave us a
dozen or so tales of his detectives, Sgt. Wentworth L. Morton, the
plodding thinker, and the newly promoted but first-nameless, Detective
McGarvey in DFW. Young
McGarvey, as the narrator describes him or “Garv” was a brash
man-of-action who was mentored by the veteran “Mort,”
who knew McGarvey’s
father. (The Morton & McGarvey series began in Dime Detective, where Mort’s
first name was Wainwright, and they eventually also appeared in Argosy.)
Their cases were evenly divided between Morton’s brain power and
experience and McGarvey’s quick action with fists or a gun saving the
day. These were well-written stories set in what was then the
small city of Miami, Florida of the 1930’s.

Erle
Stanley Gardner was a
frequent contributor to DFW. His best character,
Lester Leith, lived lavishly on liberated loot. Each story began
with Leith asking his butler, police-spy Edward Beaver, whom Leith
called Scuttle because he reminded Leith of a pirate, to read the crime
news in each day’s newspaper. Scuttle would report any crimes in
which Leith showed interest to his superior, Sgt. Ackley, who was very
similar to Dilbert’s pointy-haired boss in his ineptitude, thirst for
glory and speed in blaming Scuttle for his failures.
Leith
would dispatch Scuttle to hire an unemployed
and comely actress or dancer or secretary, rent an office or studio and
obtain supplies for all. With his storefront con in place, he
would misdirect the cops and uncover the identity of the thieves,
subsequently heisting their booty and making a contribution to his
benevolent fund or local charity, including the police widows and
orphans fund. This left the police enraged and baffled as they
knew more about the crime than Leith did.
Gardner
had several other minor characters
in DFW over the years.
These included an avenger, The Man In The Silver Mask, plus The Patent
Leather Kid, Sydney Zoom, and Senor Lobo. Mr. Gardner was a
member of the pulp elite: the million words a year writers.
Crippen & Landru will soon be publishing anthologies featuring each
of these characters.

Carroll
John Daly brought the
hard-boiled writing style to the forefront
of pulpdom, and I believe, even coined the term in an early Race
Williams novel. Daly’s
primary character in DFW was
Frank “Satan”
Hall, a police detective whose earlier
adventures appeared in Black Mask.
Satan’s foes were the heads of the underworld or toughest
killers. Daly’s melodramatic writing style carried most of these
stories fairly well if one can overlook the supposed terror each
villain suffered by looking directly at Satan’s visage. (A
glimpse of his visage can be seen to the right.) Of
course, these face-to-face encounters almost always preceded the bad
boys’ demise.
DFW
also ran several sagas of that opponent of the parole system, Mr.
Strang. In addition, Daly introduced a new character, Twist
Sullivan, who disappeared after a few short stories.
Judson
P(entecost) Philips
contributed dozens of stories
featuring The Park Avenue Hunt Club in DFW. The Club consisted of
big-game hunter John Jericho, actor Geoffrey Saville and the rotund,
intellectual Arthur Hallam with occasional assists from their Oriental
servant, Wu. They had sources all over New York and were aided by
the police hierarchy despite being officially wanted for murder and
other crimes. When the police couldn’t help or were in on the
crime, The Hunt Club was the group to call. Mostly portrayed in
novelettes, their adventures were well-crafted and exciting.
Philips
began writing for the pulps in his
teens and wrote mysteries until his death. The Hunt Club
adventures ended in the early 1940’s but John Jericho must have beat
Ted Williams to the freezer because he reappeared in 1966 without
having aged a day. The now-bearded Jericho was a lone
knight-errant in six novels and dozens of stories in Ellery Queen and Alfred Hitchcock
Mystery Magazine
under Philips’ pseudonym, Hugh Pentecost. Crippen & Landru
will be publishing a Jericho anthology in the near future.
Hannibal
Lecter is the super villain of
fiction these days. Adventure writer J. Allan Dunn gave us dozens of
stories starring The Griffin in DFW.
The Griffin was the king of extortionists using a simple threat: Pay me
$50,000.00 or you will die on this date and time. The wealthy
didn’t get that way by giving their money away. Instead, they
hired bodyguards or put their faith in police protection, including
being placed in a solitary jail cell. No matter, they all died at
the Griffin’s predicted time. 
The
Griffin had enslaved dozens of people,
having learned of their most terrible secrets and blackmailed
them into virtual drones. The uneducated ones became assassins
who were frequently killed themselves after the murders.
Meanwhile his scientists were forced to develop slow-acting but
precisely timed poisons. Gordon Manning, who had sworn to get The
Griffin, was thrifty, brave, clean, reverent, obedient,
cheerful. You get the idea. Time after time, he failed to
stop the murders or get the Griffin. Finally, the readers had had
enough, and The Griffin was captured!! Only to escape by the end
of the story. The stories continued with the usual plot for a few
more appearances.

I don’t
know who was kidding whom, but
author Eugene
Thomas was
involved in an odd bit of history of the magazine. DFW always had a couple of true
stories in each issue. Thomas wrote a “true” story with the
catchy name of “The Lady From Hell.” The Lady, Vivian Legrand,
was a former blackmailer who had even instigated the murder of her
father but gained immunity from prosecution by recovering a letter that
the British Secret Service had wanted for some time.
Soon the
true story section of DFW had a Lady From
Hell story in every couple of issues, featuring the red-haired,
breath-taking siren in yet another intrigue. How could one woman
in the less-liberated 1930’s be so involved, written about so often,
and still be an effective informant? Well, she couldn’t.
The magazine fessed up and The Lady From Hell moved to the fiction
section. Did Thomas scam DFW
or were the editors hornswoggling the readers? It remains a
mystery.

Milo
Ray
Phelps gave DFW
readers their comic relief with each appearance of his absent-minded
safecracker, Fluffy McGoff. Fluffy drove Sam, his partner and
scribe, mad by bungling one heist after another. Most stories
began with the duo just having served a short stint in jail or having
made a successful, but arduous, escape which left them flat broke, thus
keeping with the “crime
does not pay attitude of the times.”
Poor
Fluffy would forget how much nitro to use or
would double the amount because he forgot about dosing the safe the
first time, which blew the safe and their loot to smithereens. In
other outings, where precise timing was required for a “normal” sound,
like a passing train, to cover the safe blasting, something would catch
Fluffy’s eye. It was usually the same thing that would distract a
child, a toy or a cartoon, but the caper was kaput. If they did
succeed in a heist, then one could count on Fluffy to leave his I.D. or
some other good clue behind insuring a frantic flight, with Sam vowing
this was the last time.

Richard
Sale ended up scripting
movies like SUDDENLY, which gave Frank
Sinatra a fine film noir role. Prior to that, he was
pumping out a half-million words a year or more for the pulps.
His primary DFW character was
newspaper “colyumist” Joe “Daffy” Dill. Daffy’s life was a comic
swirl of stress brought on by his editor, “The Old Man,” who took great
pleasure in ragging on Mr. Dill and his girlfriend but not-quite
fiancée, Dinah Mason, who enjoying verbally skewering Daffy
almost as much as she did inserting herself into his cases. His
crime column gave him entrée into many a murder and his
crime-solving ability was valued by his police contact, Bill “Poppa”
Handley. The stories were much better than the formula would
suggest.
While both
of the artistic renditions to the right are of the suave and dapper Mr.
Dill, photographers seemed to be
popular in the
pulps, and DFW wasn’t about
to be outdone. Mr. Sale also provided them with “Candid” Jones,
who ended up
employed by the same newspaper as Daffy Dill. Naturally, these
two teamed for several outings in the magazine, and they always solved
the murder or were instrumental in the eventual solution.
There were
many other series characters in DFW. These included Sapper’s Bulldog Drummond and Frank Packard’s Jimmie Dale. Many
fine writers appeared in DFW, albeit without series characters in most
cases. From the million-word club were Max Brand, Edgar Wallace and Fred MacIsaac, whose writer’s block
ended with his suicide.
Four
writers really stand out because their prose
reads as easily today as it did seventy years ago: Frederick Nebel, Cornell Woolrich, Fredric Brown and Norbert Davis. Raymond Chandler sold a story or two
to DFW, as did L. Ron Hubbard and David Goodis, and any of their names
on the cover will push the price of that issue of DFW skyward today.
The Golden
Age writers were well represented by Agatha Christie, R. Austin Freeman and J. S. Fletcher. The future
kings of paperbacks who appeared include John D. MacDonald, Gil Brewer, Day Keene, Frank Gruber, Brett Halliday, Bruno Fischer and William Campbell Gault. The
creator of Zorro, Johnston McCulley
wrote for DFW, as did Leigh Brackett who went on to pen
the first Star Wars script.
Other
authors included H. C. Bailey, Raoul Whitfield, Hugh B. Cave, Baynard Kendrick, MacKinlay Kantor plus my favorite
author’s name: Denslow M. Dade.
Bang for the buck indeed!
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