Toni Johnson-Woods considers G.C. Bleeck’s contribution to home-grown popular writing Martyn Lyons opens the first published volume of A History of the Book in Australia 1891–1945, not with a bon mot about Nobel Laureate Patrick White, but with an anecdote about G.C. Bleeck. The anecdote is curious for two reasons: firstly, Gordon Clive Bleeck (1907–1971) is a virtually unknown writer; and secondly, the anecdote post-dates the span of the volume by six years. Clearly, Lyons was captivated by the publishing times in which Bleeck worked—Bleeck was, as Lyons succinctly explains, ‘a healthy antidote to all those who confuse the history of literary production with famous novelists, literary prize-winners and a commemorative plaque at Sydney’s Circular Quay’—for Bleeck is an exemplar of the golden era of Australian pulp fiction. In fact, Gordon Clive Bleeck was the pulp fiction writer of the 1950s—one of the many forgotten writers who spent hours writing, not for fame, or to express their innermost thoughts, but for money. Bleeck was a devoted father, an active Mason and full-time employee for the New South Railways; yet he managed to tap out thousands of words: space operas by ‘Ace Carter’, westerns by ‘Johnnie Nelson’, and romances by ‘Jennifer Parker’. In all, he wrote some 300 novels under about 20 pseudonyms. He is also the only Australian pulp fiction writer to have meticulously recorded details about his writing—indeed, he seems to be the only pulp fiction writer in the world who has left such a legacy. The Bleeck Papers (MS 9149), comprising three boxes in the Manuscripts Collection of the National Library, provides a unique insight into an important chapter in Australian publishing history. Bleeck was born in Woollahra in 1907. His father (a cabinet-maker) died young, and his mother worked in ‘service’. Bleeck left school at 13 and worked as a delivery boy for a milliner; however, in 1925 the 18-year-old sustained a serious injury in a horse-riding accident which left him with one leg shorter than the other. By 1941 he had earned a certificate from the New South Wales Railway Workshops qualifying him as a Signal Trouble Officer. But his injury meant he couldn’t fully function in his job (climbing up and down poles); a sympathetic boss gave him a desk job at Everleigh Railway Works. He worked for the NSW Railways until his death in 1971 (unpublished Bleeck biography, ‘Portrait of an Author’, by Peter Bleeck; MS 9204).
During his stay in hospital he read voraciously, and in 1929 he had started a correspondence course in short story writing, which he completed in 1932. In the interim, he perfected his craft. His first few attempts at selling fiction were not successful, but after many rejections the British Weekly Telegraph accepted ‘Nice Little Thing’ (1932). Inspired by a rat catcher at Everleigh, Bleeck wrote a series of short stories that the Bulletin started publishing in 1936. During the early 1940s, he submitted short stories to a number of magazines—New Idea, Women’s Mirror and the Australian Journal—with about a 50 per cent success rate. Then Currawong Publishing Coy published Bleeck’s first novel, Everybody’s Crazy (1943) and the following year published a collection of his Bulletin stories as Rats, Ruses and Raggles (1944). Despite this, however, his next five novels were rejected. Bleeck abandoned 65 000 word novels when he was asked to write a series of scientific thrillers by Al Innes at Associated General Press (later Horwitz Publications) in October 1949. Bleeck had always been a fan of Jules Verne and H.G. Wells, and he wrote 11 of the 43 sci-fi novelettes under the ‘house name’ Belli Luigi. Obviously Innes was impressed with Bleeck’s output, and rewarded him with a punishing writing schedule: two westerns, a science fiction and a 24 000 word space opera every two months. By the early 1950s, the Australian pulp fiction industry was gathering momentum. The tariffs on American imports had created a demand for locally produced fiction, and publishers needed writers such as Bleeck for material. Action Comics, Calvert, Sportsman and Truth Newspapers, Cleveland Publishing, and Horwitz needed as much copy as Bleeck could produce—Peter Bleeck recalls his father once receiving a telegram on a Monday morning requesting: ‘4000 word space opera by Friday; scientific novelette by Friday next week’. Bleeck completed both in time.
One of the most intriguing documents in the Bleeck Collection is the meticulous ledger that details his publications including (with some variations): dates sold and published, title, publisher, series, genre, payment and word length for both long and short fiction. It indicates that in 1950 Bleeck wrote and sold 16 novelettes (see above). In the short fiction entries for the same year, Bleeck lists an additional 50 items; these ‘short’ pieces range from 2000 to 30 000 words in length!
But how profitable was this frenetic schedule? Bleeck received £4/14/6 from the Weekly Telegraph for his first story in 1932. Unfortunately, Australian publishers weren’t so generous, and he received 2 guineas from the Bulletin for each of the Raggles instalments; however, Currawong paid £38/11/10 for the collected stories. Everybody’s Crazy realised a £10 advance and £73/8/6 royalties in one year. In the early days, he received between £17 and £19 for each science thriller (depending upon length). Bleeck earned a little over £50 in January 1950 for one novelette, one long story and five short stories. The following year, the Income Taxation Department presented Bleeck with a taxation bill of £65/1/6 (diary entry 17 February 1951). In the mid-1950s, Cleveland paid over £22 for novelettes of around 18 000 words, and H. John Edwards (Action Comics) paid £58 for novels of 48 000 words. When he returned to writing in the 1960s he received £60 per western. While the money seems paltry by today’s standards, it was a considerable sum—he was earning £40 per week at the NSW Railways, and a house in Bondi cost about £4000. At the end of his writing career Bleeck totalled his earnings and converted them to dollars—for 20 years writing he had been paid just a shade over $21 000. Not only did Bleeck have to work quickly, he also had to be a versatile writer. Over the course of his writing life, he wrote (in order of frequency): westerns (154), romances (40), detective stories (29), as well as an assortment of science fiction, sports stories, action thrillers, and humorous tales. He wrote magazine articles, comics and even contemplated television scripts. He was approached to write a book based on a feature film Long John Silver, being made at Pagewood’s Television City Studios; they wanted the story in three weeks but Bleeck would not take the time out of a planned family holiday. (Though Bleeck claimed that D’Arcy Niland wrote it, according to the National Library catalogue it was Kylie Tennant.) Bleeck’s diaries are testaments to his heavy workload, and his frustration with the fiction treadmill. They are filled with entries such as those for the month of February 1955:
A notable feature of Bleeck’s diaries is that such entries jostle with details about home renovations, extra shift hours at work, family outings and Masonic duties. His diaries indicate that generally Bleeck spent approximately three hours per day writing; on one occasion he penned two novelettes in 28 hours. He wrote at this pace for nearly a decade (1949–1959); the few gaps in his writing schedule are due to travel commitments or changes in the publishing industry. After 1957, Bleeck’s output changed considerably—he wrote three romance comics and little else. One diary entry (17 February 1958) reads: ‘Commenced plotting a western—for practice. Beginning to feel the urge to do a bit more writing but not at the previous frantic speed or unbroken drudgery’. Understandably, Bleeck was burned out. So too was the local publishing industry: import tariffs had been lifted from American publications, and publishing houses such as Leisure were ‘almost completely out of the publishing business’ (diary entry 17 December 1957). Bleeck was told ‘no more stories required for 3 or 4 months’. In 1958, the Bleeck family took a trip to the United States of America—while there he talked to someone at Vantage Press about the possibility of publishing in the USA. The publisher was astounded by Bleeck’s output, and declared that if he wrote that many novels in the United States, he would be a millionaire. That is not to say that Bleeck’s stories did not reach North America—in fact, after Bleeck returned and enquired about selling his material overseas, he was told that his fiction was already selling well in Mexico (diary entry 29 September 1958). He did not receive any extra income from overseas sales, however, because pulp fiction writers sold their stories for a lump sum and waived overseas rights or royalties. After the meeting, Bleeck’s family took him to the Qantas offices—in the window was a display devoted to Carter Brown, whose books were about to be launched by the New American Library. Bleeck had been invited to write the Carter Brown stories, but rejected them because he ‘wouldn’t write anything his children couldn’t read’.
Towards the end of 1961, Wal Simpson from Cleveland Publishing rang Bleeck and asked him for a story synopsis. One can almost hear the groan in Bleeck’s diary entry for 11 October: ‘Worked briefly on synopsis for a 40 000 word western, but the story-telling mechanism is a bit rusty. Not very interested in writing again, anyway.’ Nonetheless he bought another typewriter and dashed off a synopsis for which he received £60. Simpson wanted the complete story in three weeks. By 5 December, Bleeck was ‘sick of the sight of it and all its characters,’ but finally on 7 December he had ‘finished editing [the] western—thank goodness! The job was an effort, can’t see myself getting into the literary rat-race again.’ Despite his misgivings, Bleeck agreed to write one western a month for the next 12 years for Cleveland. We do not know how ‘typical’ Bleeck’s life was as a pulp fictionist. One is tempted to ask why he didn’t give up work and become a full-time writer. The answer is simple: he was a full-time writer. The life of the freelance pulp fiction writer was, according to fellow pulp fiction writer C.J. McKenzie (who I recently interviewed via telephone), ‘the hardest job in the world … You worked with a stack of quarto paper on the left, a typewriter in middle and the m/s on the right. And woe betide you if you found your hastily typed story wasn’t working out … [there were] no delete, cut, copy or paste buttons. You started all over again’. Bleeck’s advice to aspiring authors concisely summarises his own writing career. In a letter to a Miss Thompson, dated 30 June 1955, he said:
Gordon Bleeck, of course, was not the only pulp-fiction slave—the industry was forged on the backs of hundreds of now forgotten writers: ‘Marc Brody’ (W.H. Williams), ‘K.T. McCall’ (Audrey Armitage and Muriel Watkins) and of course, the biggest-selling Australian author ever—‘Carter Brown’ (Alan Yates). Dr TONI JOHNSON-WOODS lectures in Contemporary Studies at the University of Queensland
|
| Back to NLA News Index | Back to November Issue | Back to NLA Home Page |
To order a particular issue of
the NLA News e-mail nlasales@nla.gov.au
or join the Friends of the National
Library of Australia and receive a copy each month by mail.