New documentary on Rosaleen Norton

Newly released, a new feature documentary about the Australian Rosaleen Norton, The Witch of King’s Cross. It appears to have been made from a wide-eyed occultist perspective…

“Allegations of satanic rituals, obscene art and sex orgies in 1950s Sydney. Inspired by the work of Aleister Crowley, bohemian artist Rosaleen Norton…”

Before that mumbo-jumbo the young Norton was a possible Lovecraft correspondent, and certainly a far-flung acolyte. At age 15 in 1934 she wrote and published three tales that tried to closely mimic the master, but nothing thereafter. One of these tales echoed the lost 1907 Lovecraft story “The Picture”, and we know Lovecraft would send this story as ‘a re-write test’ to promising young writers such as Bloch. See my 4,000-word essay on the possibilities, in my book Historical Context #4.

‘Picture Postals’ from Lovecraft: the Courthouse

This week, another in the long series of posts that have investigated Lovecraft’s College St. I was going to hold off from posting pictures of the Courthouse Buildings at the foot of College St., Providence. Partly because it doesn’t seem the most exciting place in the world, and he may well never have set foot in it. But also because I was still unsure of what exact routes Lovecraft habitually took from the hill to the city-centre. Even when he lived in College St., was it a regular sight for him? Some scholars say he walked into town one way, some another.

But then I read Lovecraft commenting on the old courtyard at the back of the buildings a little down from the Courthouse, in the new Letters to Family books. His aunts had both sent a fine drawing of this courtyard, cut from a local newspaper or magazine (see my earlier blog post on this courtyard). Lovecraft then remarked, in 1924, that he had climbed up the hill that way “thousands” of times. And this was before he even lived at No. 66, a little further up the hill.

Thus, while he may well have descended from College Hill into the commercial district by a different route (longer and more scenic, perhaps varying by season) and thus avoided the very foot of College St., it sounds to me like he often returned up the hill by the shortest and most direct way. That would be logical, if he were returning carrying groceries and library books.

He would thus have been walking on the side of the street opposite the Courthouse, and had a good view of the building across the relatively quiet street intersection. His side was the obvious side of College St. to choose to walk on, as it would avoid Brown University students. By tradition the students were supposed to go up and down the hill on the Courthouse side of the street, so as to give the other side to residents. He would also avoid tripping over any undesirables that might be loafing on or milling around the Courthouse steps. Thus, the building would have presented itself to him as a fine landmark on his starting to ascend the hill and return home, whatever he may have thought about its architectural merits.

Here are some indicative views of the exterior. First we see the wider context. The ascent of College Hill is ahead, and the Courthouse a little way up on the right of the picture. The date is 1905, but it was fundamentally unchanged for several more decades.

Now the camera is sited a little way up College Street and the cameraman looks across at the Courthouse frontage from a side-street. College St. runs across the picture from left to right.

Here we see why the above ethereal picture was made in winter. In summer the same view was obscured by trees, as you can see in the picture below — which also provides the best glimpse of the slanted louver-boards on the belfry pinnacle. More on those later.

An artist has no such problem with foliage, and can artfully restrain the trees. Below is Henry J. Peck’s pen-study of the Courthouse frontage, before 1927 and most likely 1924-26. There is now apparently a need for a litter-bin (trash-bin) on the corner, although it might be an American post-box (Post Office mailing-box) of a type unknown to me.

In the end I needn’t have worried about if he actually habitually observed the building as he walked up and down College St., or if he came back up from the commercial district in such a way as to approach it face-on. Because it turns out that at No. 66 he saw it every day, or at least an evocative bit of it. The Courthouse appears briefly in Lovecraft’s late tale “The Haunter of the Dark”…

At sunset he would often sit at his desk and gaze dreamily off at the outspread west — the dark towers of Memorial Hall just below, the Georgian court-house belfry, the lofty pinnacles of the downtown section, and that shimmering, spire-crowned mound in the distance whose unknown streets and labyrinthine gables so potently provoked his fancy.

Thus the belfry structure must have been visible from the windows of his room at 66 College Street, and it can plausibly be said to have helped inspire a key setting in “The Haunter of the Dark”…

the black tower” with “the smoke-grimed louver-boarding

Possibly more of the Courthouse tower could be seen from up in the monitor-roof attic of his house at No. 66, which had a thin line of windows and an old west-facing door to the exterior roof-space. This door was opened for Lovecraft by Brobst, who found a way to spring the intricate locking mechanism that held fast the cobwebbed door.

New book: Old World Footprints

There’s a new David Goudsward publication. He has made Old World Footprints available again in a new Kindle ebook edition at a modest price.

In 1928, Mrs. William B. Symmes gave her family and friends 300 copies of her 32-page travelogue. The book’s printer was amateur pressman W. Paul Cook … Mrs. Symmes’ nephew, Frank Belknap Long is credited for the preface, actually ghostwritten by H. P. Lovecraft. Lovecraft proofread the book for Cook, and may have edited it as well.

The work is a very minor footnote in Lovecraft’s life and writing. But many will still welcome this new edition which is annotated and has photos.

It’s presented in 58 pages. I’m uncertain what “revised” means. The Amazon listing has it that it’s a “Print Replica” and “revised”. My guess is that “revised” may mean that errors of fact may have been corrected via the annotations? Or perhaps it’s just an Amazon thing, a way to get a clean listing so that Amazon’s idiot-bots don’t confuse it with the original?

Lovecraft’s ghost-written preface can also be found in Collected Essays of H.P. Lovecraft, Volume 5: Philosophy; Autobiography. David Goudsward’s article “Cassie Symmes: Inadvertent Lovecraftian” was in The Fossil, April 2017, and presumably the new book builds on this and provides the definitive version of it.

Marvells of Science

Neale Monks has a nicely written and fair-minded new review of Collected Essays Volume 3: Science for SFcrowsnest.

Joshi has done a tremendous job here editing the various essays, letters, articles and manuscripts. … Overall, this is a fabulous book that opens a whole new side of Lovecraft that will be unfamiliar to most of his fans. His non-fiction writing is succinct, clear and easy to follow …. As a science writer, it’d be easy to dismiss him as a gentleman amateur, but that’s not at all the impression you get … Rather, he’s a man who may be largely self-taught but uses scientific instruments to collect data, takes copious notes and reads as widely as he can to keep up with current thinking.

Songs from Lovecraft and Others

S.T. Joshi’s blog has updated. Among the news there are details of his own forthcoming…

Songs from Lovecraft and Others — a volume of my recent musical compositions, in which I have set poems by Lovecraft, Clark Ashton Smith, and others to music. I am now fine-tuning my scores (adding dynamic markings, breath marks, and other details). We will have an accompanying CD that features a computer-generated rendition of the compositions. My music notation software (MuseScore3) is capable of producing sound files that (in the case of choral works) can sing the notes (with a kind of “Ah” sound) but cannot articulate the words. But that seems good enough for our purposes.

Wonderful. I hope he also releases the source files under Creative Commons, so others can push the MuseScore3 files through different instrument and voice modules — and so get new sonics on the same pattern.

He also notes a curious resemblance of the actor playing Prince Philip (husband of our glorious Queen) in The Crown, to H.P. Lovecraft. Just in case you were seeking to cast an actor for an HPL bio-pic.

On Xuchotl

A new deep-dive by a R.E. Howard scholar into the question: “Red Nails”: Did Howard Create the City of Xuchotl From a Real-Life Inspiration? The case is unproven one way or the other, but it’s an interesting and well-illustrated investigation, and touches on a comment he made to H.P. Lovecraft.

LibriVox has a free audiobook of the long tale, at around 3.5 hours depending on how you nudge the playback speed. See also my R.E. Howard audio books for Conan in story-world order, to see where this story fits in the Conan timeline.

“Calling W5DAV, calling W5DAV…”

Here’s a snippet possibly of interest to some on a dull Monday morning, re: the mystery of ‘whatever happened to Winifred V. Jackson?’ after she collaborated with H.P. Lovecraft.

First, some background. The last known contact between Lovecraft and Jackson was July 1921, and Lovecraft’s wife Sonia apparently stated that she stole Lovecraft away from Jackson, re: marriage. A small-ad I found earlier suggests that Jackson was likely working for a New York advertising agency in 1920 and was then seeking an assistant. This seems to place her in New York City by that time. She was said to be living in Boston circa 1926 (see the booklet Ancestors and Descendants of Joshua Williams, 1927). Based on these slim filaments of evidence my feeling is that she was into New York City perhaps four years before Lovecraft, finding a living there in advertising. But that she probably did not ‘stick’ and returned to Boston. If she tried again in 1924, as Lovecraft did, is unknown. Even if she got back in, then she was likely out of the big city at about the same time as Lovecraft departed it.

But now a new discovery of data. In Spring 1935 and Spring 1936, two directory listings for a ham radio operator and their call-sign…

W5DAV — Portable, Winifred V. Jackson, 527 29th Av., Meridian, Miss.

Meridian was then a medium-sized city in Mississippi, 100 miles north of New Orleans. The American term is “city”, but it was not as big and grand as that makes it sound. The British would call it a large town. Number 527 has been swept away by a long ugly road flyover, and the fields opposite have vanished under now-shabby late-1950s industrial units. But 615 29th Av. remains near to the foot of the flyover on the same side of the Avenue, and the trim house (right) gives a flavour of what was lost. The setting might have reminded Winifred of her childhood place, which had been the sleepy and rural Great Pond, Maine.

Now the obvious objection is that Lovecraft’s Winifred was a Boston lady who died in “Mass.” in 1959. My research question is then: could the radio listing be a typo for “Meridian, Mass”? There is no such place in Mass., other than “Meridian St., East Boston”, and this Boston address has no possible “527 29th Av.” connected with it. The listing stands then, and appears unchanged for two years in the Mississippi section of the magazine. If this “Miss.” was Lovecraft’s Winifred, she presumably had an amateur radio station for access to more stimulating conversations than the edge of a Mississippi town could provide after sundown.

It certainly looks like this could be the same Winifred V. Jackson, still involved in amateur affairs but now of the amateur radio sort. It might be that — with her obvious talents — she was connected in some way with the town’s Meridian Star (1914-) newspaper. But that’s just a guess and we will likely never know, because The Library of Congress is missing the 1929-1936 run of that title.

But what was she doing in Mississippi, if she is indeed Lovecraft’s Winifred? Well, consider that in 1935 she was aged about 59 or 60. In the depths of the Great Depression the Social Security Act of 1935 had just set the U.S. retirement age to 65 years for citizens in private employment. She thus had a gap of some five years to fill, and perhaps even more if she had been in the habit of fudging her age downward (as was common in those days, e.g. Lovecraft’s friend Mrs Miniter). She might therefore have been a paid companion/secretary to some elderly amateur journalist, for a few years, and done some occasional work for the town’s newspaper. But my best guess is that 527 29th Av. was only an over-wintering address, a place for her and her elderly mother to avoid the brutal Boston winters. Meanwhile the Boston home could have been let out for cash, which would have been very welcome in the depths of the Great Depression.

There is oblique confirmation of this theory, from the 1930 U.S. Census. There is no Winifred + Jackson in Mississippi at that date, on two 1930 census search-engines (admittedly limited ones, as the full Census access appears to be paywalled). Thus I do not appear to have lighted on a young namesake who had grown up in Mississippi and happened to develop an interest in radio.

Some printing and typographic skills were involved in such hobbies, which again gives slight supporting evidence. For instance, here is a typical 1935 example of the sort that amateur radio hams would exchange by mail after long-distance conversations over the airwaves. Such cards would be hand-stamped on heavy blank postcards with rubber-stamps and coloured ink-pads, and with the call-sign prominent.

The case is tantalizing but unproven. Yet if I am correct then it would be amusing to imagine that Lovecraft’s own dial-twiddling on the short-wave radio at that date might, accidently via a blip in the cosmic ionosphere, have once again brought Jackson’s voice to his ears.

The Typewriter and Popular Culture

The Swiss Maison d’Ailleurs science-fiction museum has two exhibitions on now and through the summer, one with a title that misses something in the translation but which is devoted to ‘The Typewriter and Popular Culture’.

It surveys… “the relationship between the typewriter and popular culture, from cinema to videogames to science-fiction literature.”

This is paired with the more fang-tastic ‘I, Monster’ exhibition on monsters, which collectors may wish to note has a full 256-page catalogue.