Pulp Fiction, 1931 · page 4 of 68
10-Story Book, July 1931 — page 4: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Analysis of "Deacock Alley" Page This is an interior story page from a pulp magazine featuring the opening of a short story titled "Deacock Alley" by Ward Andrus Scranton. The page includes decorative illustrations above the title—a man in a hat on the left and two women on the right—rendered in pen-and-ink style typical of early 20th-century pulp design. The prose describes a freezing February night outside Boston's Tarleton hotel, where two poorly-dressed girls loiter near the entrance while a doorman shelters nearby. The narrative suggests the girls are soliciting or engaged in questionable activities, and mentions a passing limousine and gossip about someone named Mabel Cabot's new Packard automobile. The story appears to be crime or hardboiled fiction.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
HE icy, February night wind | we the fine, powdery snow in miniature spiral vortexes along the concrete sidewalk in front of the Tarle- ton hotel. A few lone pedestrians, coat collars turned up against the sub-zero temperature, walked backwards against the wintry blast that carried the tang of the salty Atlantic in its freezing bitter- ness. The huge, uniformed doorman hugged the slight shelter of the ornate Corinthian columns at the side of the portico; suavely polite to all outward appearances, yet in- wardly cursing the management that com- pelled him to brave this unaccustomed weather—curses too bitter to even allow him to notice the two girls standing, and talking animatedly, in front of the re- volving doors. They were not “carriage trade,’ anyone could have seen that ata glance. Their cheap, fur trimmed coats covered finery all too gaudy for the smug respectability of Tarleton patrons. he / if YZ — SA/Z s CY? Z “A Fj), | A ‘ f Z ZA 7 - > i wll We iy, G AC by. “Word Andrus § ae oe A loose, outer page of the Boston Tran- script, caught in one of the freezing ed- dies, raced towards them, dodging uncer- tainly from side to side and ending in a tight embrace of one of the silk clothed legs. “Damn” its owner muttered, between lips that were blue beneath the rouge. “C’mon .. .. let’s make a dive for it!’ “Nix... wait.’ the other cautioned in a hissing whisper. “His nibs ’ll grab you ‘fore you get half through that turn- stile!’ And aloud in a voice meant for other ears: “I saw Mabel Cabot the other day. She has the sweetest new Packard roadster you ever saw... . orange and Pr6en 3. S GRE Ss An impressively black limousine whirled around the corner, sending the drifted snow in blinding clouds which were immediately captured by those min- iature whirlwinds and whisked away. The doorman stirred, stamped his cramped (Continued to page 4) CORNICLOOKS.E©