Pulp Fiction, 1946 · page 25 of 84
10-Story Detective Magazine, April 1946 — page 25: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page Analysis This is a story page from a pulp magazine featuring "Stars Die at Dawn" by Fergus Truslow. The page includes a dramatic woodcut-style illustration depicting a standing figure with a rifle overlooking a scene with fire and what appears to be a body below. The visible prose describes a Hollywood agent named Mark Reynard dealing with consequences involving his film discovery, a glamorous actress named Vanessa, who apparently made an "unscheduled appearance at the Pearly Gates." The narrator recounts meeting Alec Turrentine at Johnny Cook's riding stables and reflects on Reynard's misfortune, suggesting he should have handled the situation with his talent differently. The text hints at a crime or supernatural scenario with dark implications.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Stars Die at Dawn By Fergus Truslow ) « ——, SRY 2 NG ) aie ae | MAAN \A¥ 5 a s ‘ Z oa» ~ = ” * Sa a ee gm Mark Reynard may have been a toxy Hollywood agent, but his glamorous film find, Vanessa, thought she was foxier. | With ihe result that, when that star made an unscheduled | appearance at the Pearly Gates, Reynard found himselt in a. homicide-bounded Terrestrial hell. tain tops. Ail the roosters in the San Fernando Valley crowed lustily, Sitting in my car in front of Johnny Cook’s riding stable, I watched Alec Turrentine ride away, and If shivered, Maybe it was the mean, dangerous set of his shoulders. Maybe it was because the chill dawn mist was just the color of Vanessa’s eyes when the first lady of filmdom is plenty sore. _ Or maybe it was just that Ol’ Brer Mark should’ve had a couple more shots Pai light squatted on the moun- of rye back in the Strip te brace his nerves for this job. Most agents wouldn’t have dealt them- selves into the total war between Tur- rentine and Vanessa. But Ol’ Brer Mark _isn’t most agents. I had a lot of new talent on my string, and I wanted te see them get a break. For that, I was sticking my neck out, Johnny Cook’s faded blue eyes fol- lowed Turrentine, “I hope you eyeballed them fancy English riding britches and boots,” he whispered, “An’ that mono- grammed cigarette.” ‘ck Commicnoook (© inn