THE FINAL FIRE by Dennis Smith

I have no time to watch TV

Yours is the face that interests me 

I loved you when you lost your raincoat 

I'll love you when you lose your fear 

Fire girl, say you will

HUMAN FUEL! New York City, 1975 ... a powder keg in more ways than one. Ripe for the firebugs, for the insurance fraudsters, and for the decades of deferred maintenance and subpar construction. Just waiting for a spark, a short circuit, somewhere, anywhere: in the ghettos, uptown, on Broadway ... just one little spark, and it will all go up in flames ...

Firefighter and man of letters Dennis Smith had previously written a nonfiction book about firefighters in the South Bronx, and here he turns his not-insubstantial skill at drawing out real life drama to even greater heights of fiction. You are there! As brothers Tom and Jerry battle flames and human foibles, as Smith drags us through the gritty NYC infrastructure, and as we learn, in the best disaster genre tradition, of just how badly things are about to go wrong. This is the NYC of Serpico ... and of the Wolfen, where fact and fiction spring forth from the polluted asphalt loam. This is the same lousy, stinking town of Cravens and Marr's The Black Death, where millions of souls are held for ransom by institutional ignorance and the vagaries of fate. Today, it's a dead baby in a smoked out tenement ... tomorrow, it might be Manhattan.

Around the same time he wrote The Final Fire, Smith also founded Firehouse magazine, which is still running to this day. Here, he offers a free issue and an attractive discount price for a year's subscription. Readers left slavering over his destructive prowess may want to educate themselves further on the real life issues:

Signet offers some back page ads, including David Lippincott's disaster dud Tremor Violet. No thanks, Jack! Believe the hype: The Final Fire is a 4 alarm inferno! See for yourself, because it's available to read and download at archive dot org.

Signet Books, 1976 (original pub. 1975)

FOOTPRINTS ON THE SANDS OF TIME by L.M. Lewis

 

Well, I dreamed I saw the silver space ships flyin'

In the yellow haze of the sun

There were children cryin' and colors flyin'

All around the chosen ones

You might think that 1975 is getting a little late in the game (after the gold rush, even) for yet another bold type, going-beyond-Chariots-of-the Gods? blurbed Ancient Astronauts piece, but author L.M. Lewis tells us he's been working on the mystery behind THE MASTER RACE for years, and far be it from us to deny him sharing the fruits of his life's work ...

Looking back fifty years later, despite Lewis' frequent invocation of the MASTER RACE that came from the stars and gifted humanity with our civilizational uplift, thankfully this isn't another Holocaust denyin' or otherwise fascistic work. Frankly, Lewis comes out far ahead of von Daniken in this regard. No, this is enjoyable, pure crank writing - Lewis has pegged the arrival of the MASTER RACE to exactly 6790 BC, and walks us through his maths as the enlightened ones from outer space interact with burgeoning human societies, ultimately taking their leave in 1451 BC for reasons Lewis will also elucidate ...

We've seen all this before, of course: Ezekial's wheel was a UFO, Sodom and Gomorrah were nuked, the pyramids were built by aliens - or, more properly in this case, inspired by aliens, as Lewis gives the Egyptians full credit for the hard work, albeit in an outdated way as he believes they relied on slave labor for the feat. Anyways, the point is that Mr. Lewis presents some tried and true Ancient Astronaut grist in an engaging manner, all killer no filler. Let the man speak for himself:

In 1970 the author became convinced that (1) the Master Race landed on this planet in 6790 B.C., with as much wheat as they could conveniently carry. (2) Quickly establishing themselves, they multiplied their stocks by two harvests a year - one natural, the other artificial - for five years. (3) With an eye to the future, they instructed the Egyptian nomads (who began to settle down two years later, namely in 6783 B.C.) in the growing of wheat and in agriculture. Villages and towns began to grow up, and officials of the Master Race guided the affairs of the infant nation for the next forty-nine years- "when gods ruled Egypt"! (4) Members of the new nation taken gradually into the government as they progressed (in 6770 в.c.) wished to build the biggest monument ever to the freedom they had been promised within fifty years. (5) The Master Race agreed to supply the brains and "know-how," the Egyptians, the materials and labor, which the Master Race would control. As stated earlier, Memphis was founded and work started on the great road in 6764 B.C.

By these calculations, it will be observed that the coming of the Master Race, the founding of Memphis, and the building of the Great Pyramid, all took place in the seventh century before the Flood.

History is full of the manifestations of novel ideas, unusual happenings, and unlooked-for results, all of which make it stranger than fiction! How many decisive battles have been won and lost. How many great men have stepped upon the mighty stage of Earth's affairs for one brief day of glory that at evening passed away. Some names will always be remembered, but they are few in number. Undoubtedly the most amazing is Jesus Christ - that astounding young man who put the world on fire, whose memory has often changed the intentions of mankind, and whose words, after nearly 2,000 years, are still a living power! Because he lived - and died - even man's reckoning of time has changed.

Lewis is fond of lists and summaries. Compare this to W. Raymond Drake's endless and interminable series of Gods And Spacemen from hither and yon as featured in the opening ad page. By the time Drake has gotten around to Gods and Spacemen in East Lansing, Michigan, Lewis has already said his piece and retired to a sensible evening after this one and done title.

No quickie cash-in huckster he, it's only right to give Lewis the final word as well:

Poised on the brink of a third and final world war, the nations of mankind stare enviously at each other in mutual fear, akin to mesmeric terror. How much time will elapse before the seemingly inevitable happens and the nations again start murdering their neighbors?

No! Don't deny the fatal probability. As an unbiased and logical person, take a good look for yourself at the world of today. The peoples of the Earth stand armed to the teeth! The majority are half-starved, because the world's substance is being squandered on hydrogen bombs, ballistic missiles, nuclear submarines, poison gas, and offensive germ cultures. All this is in the cause of "defense," of course! What utter stupidity!

If these international propensities were manifested in individuals rather than by nations, we should be well justified in immediately incarcerating them in a criminal lunatic asylum!

If it's not too late, Footprints on the Sands of Time is available to read and download at archive dot org.

Signet Books, 1975

TRUE EXPERIENCES IN EXOTIC ESP edited by Martin Ebon

Editor Martin Ebon returns with another roundup of paranormal writings. This time, the theme is "exotic ESP," which basically means anything outside the good old USA and Europe - Ebon says as much in his introduction, while also making the point that it's all relative who's "exotic" to whom. By learning about these "exotic" (different) peoples and sharing their experiences, Ebon hopes we can find common ground in humanity while also working to pierce the veil of the unknown.

Ebon also name drops psychic surgeon fraud Tony Agpaoa, last seen here getting a (mercifully anonymized) excoriation from Warren Smith ... Ebon claims that it's "too soon" to tell whether the Americans flocking to the Philippines for Agpaoa's cures will get results, which is a bit odd since Smith was able to say "No," quite firmly just the next year of 1969, and the newspapers had records of Agpaoa's fraud in 1967!

This credulous reference by Ebon sets the tone for part of this volume, typical of midcentury paranormal work: "Proof of all these amazing feats is just around the corner!" Some chapters are straightforward descriptions of cultural practices, some detail parapsychological work happening right now with "exotic" peoples, and some recount supposed amazing events the authors themselves experienced, like the phantom pig of Montego Bay. 

We get another Aboriginal death curse, this time written up by one Nicholas Wainwright, as well as a Maori death curse, a Tahitian death curse, and several hair raising adventures such as walking on coals and dealing with the devil dancers of Sri Lanka (Ceylon). The phantom pig is joined by a chained donkey and a haunted terrier.

One of the most interesting chapters is titled "China's Psychic Heritage" by Chung Yu Wang (Wang Chongyou in the modern style), being a far ranging history of various beliefs and events. Wang was also a pioneer in Chinese geology and metallurgy, with a page at the Northern Mine Research Society. His wikipedia page doesn't mention his essay from this volume, which seems to be his only published work on the paranormal. True to Martin Ebon's cold warrior status, he introduces Wang's chapter by saying "below the tyrannic-materialistic veneer of today's Communist China lies an ancient tradition of supernatural experience, study, and philosophy" ... that's nice, Martin.

Wang cites a few ancient Chinese texts on the paranormal, explains feng shui among other traditions, and lists off various phenomena including phantom "mongooses" in northern China which he explicitly ties to that famous wag, Jef the talking mongoose. I put "mongoose" in quotes because some online have speculated that the true identity of these animals would be Siberian weasels, which are reportedly thick on the ground, albeit elusive, in northern China.

This is a pretty slim volume, under 130 pages, and Ebon's introduction doesn't quite tie it all together. Still, there are some interesting chapters here, and Ebon gives a blurb about every contributor at the end of the book.

See for yourself: this title is available to read and download at archive dot org.

Signet Books, 1968

THE EYE OF THE GODS by Richard Owen

We've got a real throwback here, a lost world thriller set in the Venezuelan jungle and featuring an expedition to the mysterious Autana: a jagged plateau shot through with caves that are supposedly home to Cuyakiare, a surviving Tyrannosaur. Add some very modern terrorism to the mix and author "Richard Owen" seems ready for blast off.

It's too bad, then that the most interesting thing about the story is the background of its author: Richard Owen is a pseudonym for writers Dennis Fawcett and David Nott, of whom there's not a lot of information about online. The original Richard Owen, of course, was a pioneering paleontologist who coined the word dinosaur, and Fawcett and Nott also reference some paleontological history with their background on character Page Foster's great-grandfather Egil Edward Foster, who's a Cope and/or Marsh type trailblazer of American paleontology. Our heroic writer/newsman Morgan used some of great-granddad's crackpot ideas about surviving dinosaurs to juice a bestseller about the Autana, so now he feels some kind of way about helping out Page on an expedition to find Cuyakiare.

The hardcover edition

It's all a lot of cute set building that feels wasted on the resulting story, which is strangely overpacked yet empty, with the terrorist subplot and endless jungle trekking that drags on and on. It even opens on a dud note with lots of arguing back and forth between Morgan and his editor about whether he's going to cover Cuyakiare or the terrorist plotting over Prince Karim of El Hajjaz, a tiny Emirates country - his entourage is in town in Caracas to work out some deals over oil. The terrorism is masterminded by "Emiliano," an obvious reference to Carlos the Jackal.

After a lot of plot and not a lot of payoff, the mighty Cuyakiare finally gets a big to-do, and, well ... he does alright. After all that build up, the beast munches on some terrorists and stalks about a big cave like a lesser Harryhausen set piece. And speaking of such things ...

As we traipse through the jungle with Morgan and Foster the story starts to feel like one of those low budget '80s Italian sci-fi/action films - something like Top Line or Alien Contamination, which padded out intermittent special effects with cheap location shooting and would-be screwball dialogue between the leads. David Warbeck would have been great as the put-upon Morgan, and why not pair him with his costar from The Beyond, Catriona MacColl? Maybe director Antonio Margheriti could have contributed some scale model FX and a scary T-Rex, too! Maybe, maybe ...

A novel doesn't have the budgetary concerns of a film, though, so it's pretty sad that Fawcett and Nott's scenery feels so impoverished. How come there aren't any other dinosaurs, for one? A Kirkus review from 1977 calls the novel a "shaggy-dinosaur love story" and damns it with faint praise as a "winningly mindless adventure-romance." I would drop the "winningly" from that description ...

On a final note, the paperback artwork does Morgan dirty: one of the more endearing parts of the novel is how he's a middle-aged schlub, not a he-man adventurer type. Page is also noted as having dark hair, not blonde as the cover shows. Fawcett and Nott's The Eye of the Gods limps to a miserable 1/4 rating: all wind up and no pitch.

This title is available to read and download at archive dot org.

Signet Books, 1979 (original pub. 1977)