The time has come to talk of cats and Chinamen, and rattlesnakes and
skulls—and why it is these things abound in yarns for WEIRD TALES.
Particularly cats and Chinamen. Believe it or not, every second
manuscript we open (and that’s placing the average rather low) is
concerned with one or the other, or both, of these.
Why is this? Is it because a cat and a Chinaman suggest the mysticism of
the Orient, and thus seem excellent “props” for weird fiction? Or is it
merely because both mind their own business, imperturbably pursue their
destinies, and thereby create the impression that there’s some deep-laid
mystery here? We ask you that.
Whatever the reason, it’s an odd and curious fact that when an author
sets out to tell a weird tale his mind turns, as if instinctively, to
cats and Chinamen. And then, for good measure, he not infrequently throws
in a few rattlesnakes and a skull or two.
Sometimes the result is interesting. And sometimes it is awful! And
again, sometimes, it is a ludicrous thing, unconsciously funny.
We have no prejudices against Chinese characters in fiction, and we have
none whatever against cats. For that matter, we haven’t any prejudices
of any sort. We’ve published a good many stories about Chinese, and
quite a large number about cats, and not a few that featured skulls and
rattlesnakes. You’ll find some in this June issue.
But we didn’t accept those stories because of the aforementioned
features, nor yet in spite of them. We accepted them solely because they
were GOOD stories. We observe one rule, and one rule only, in selecting
stories for your entertainment. We think we’ve mentioned this before,
but we’ll say again that our only requirement is: The thing MUST be
interesting!
If a story interests us it will likewise interest others, or so we
believe. And if it doesn’t—Thumbs Down! And it doesn’t matter a good gosh
darn whether the hero, or villain, has yellow skin and oblique eyelids,
or flaxen hair and sky-blue eyes, or whether or not a green-eyed cat
howls atop a grinning skull. The story’s the thing!
All the same, though, we would like to know why all these cats and
Chinamen are slinking mysteriously through our manuscripts. We read eight
before breakfast this morning (chosen quite at random), and we hope to
die if there wasn’t a Chinaman in every last one of them!
* * * * *
And still the letters pour in from delighted readers—plenty of them!
Manifestly, it is quite impossible to print more than a fractional part
of them here, but we can’t refrain from quoting at least three that
concern Paul Suter’s story, “Beyond the Door,” which appeared in the
April WEIRD TALES.
We take it you remember this story and will therefore be interested in
these comments. The first letter comes from R. E. Lambert, secretary of
the Washington Square College of New York University, New York, and reads
as follows:
“Dear sir: Just as Woodrow Wilson used to say during his most
trying days in the presidency that when he wanted to get his
mind completely off his work he would turn to a detective
story, so I turn for my own relaxation to the horror story.
“I suppose it would take exhaustive questioning by a
psychoanalyst to discover why this sort of literature appeals
to me, but the fact is it does so appeal. While there are
hundreds of others like me in this respect, I doubt whether
the number is great enough to make such a venture as yours a
considerable financial success—therefore, the more praise to
you for your courage in launching WEIRD TALES.
“What particularly impelled me to write this letter is the
story in the current issue, entitled ‘Beyond the Door.’
One reason why I single this one from such a congeries of
thrilling, weird tales is that, with all its mystery and
suggestion of the supernatural, the dénouement and everything
that leads up to it are discovered at the end to be logically
and physically ‘possible.’ So often, in mystery stories, we
are called upon to accept much that simply is not naturally
possible, and we turn from them, duly horrified, but
unpersuaded that the tale is more than a figment of a morbid
imagination.
“From the standpoint of construction, I have read few stories
that so faithfully adhere to the trinity of short story
tradition—unity, coherence and mass. Especially on the score of
unity, the most important of the trinity, do I find this tale
worthy of much praise. Not a situation, not a paragraph, nor
a sentence, but which has a direct bearing on the unfoldment
of the plot. And I find no single instance where the choice of
words seems to have resulted from a straining for effect. Of
how many stories, whether horrific or any other kind, can this
truly be said?
“Then, too, very few tales are really brought home to the
reader’s own intimate experience of life. Yet here we shudder
at the terrors created by a guilty conscience, and approve,
while we shudder, of the terrible punishment that is meted out
for the wrong-doing. How very real it thus becomes to all of us!
“Finally, the author dares to do, and admirably succeeds in
doing, what so few writers of fiction attempt—and mostly bungle
when they do attempt. I refer to the linking of his story in
the closing paragraphs to man’s inevitable, age-old uncertainty
as to what is to come in the hereafter. This alone elevates
‘Beyond the Door’ out of the ordinary run of fiction.
“Here’s wishing you a well-merited success!”
The next one was written by Rev. Andrew Wallace MacNeill, minister of the
Bethlehem Congregational Church, International Falls, Minnesota:
“Gentlemen: I have read with much interest and pleasure the
April number of your new magazine, which I believe will make
a distinctive and acceptable place for itself in magazine
literature.
“I am particularly interested in the story by a new writer,
Paul Suter, ‘Beyond the Door’ proving exceptionally appealing
and gripping. I hope you will publish more work by this writer,
as I believe if he maintains the standard of this story your
readers will make quite a popular response.”
And the third letter, which arrived in the same mail that brought the
first two, came from the author himself:
“Dear Mr. Baird: I take it that even editors enjoy an
occasional pat on the back, in the midst of the many
black looks they receive, so I am presuming to express my
appreciation of the way in which you printed my story, ‘Beyond
the Door,’ in your April issue.
“There is a story which might easily have been rendered
monotonous by unintelligent press work—because the effect of
slowly undermining horror, which I had to attain, is akin to
monotony. You avoided that pitfall by change of type—and (this
to me is the remarkable thing) I can tell by the way in which
you ran in those changes that you got absolutely every subtle
suggestion which I concealed in that story—and I buried quite
a lot of them there. You must have read my manuscript with a
microscope. May I take the liberty of expressing my opinion
that as an editor you are emphatically THERE?
“Cordially yours,
“J. Paul Suter.”
We almost dislike to print this last one—it’s too much like pinning a
medal on our coat—but we can plead, in extenuation, that the excellence
of Mr. Suter’s story was not due to our editing, or printer’s directions,
or anything of the sort, but solely to his splendid craftsmanship. He
wrote a good story and we published it, and no amount of editing could
have made it any better.
If you failed to read “Beyond the Door” we earnestly recommend that you
do so now. In either case, don’t miss his next story. It is called “The
Guard of Honor,” and is fully as “creepy” as the first—and you will find
it in the next issue of WEIRD TALES.
Suter is a coming writer. No doubt of that. And since he tells us, “I
would rather write horror stories than anything else,” we hope to publish
the best of his work.
* * * * *
We’ve ransacked a bale of Letters to the Editor in an effort to find some
not sweet with praise! and we’ve found only two, and here they are:
“Dear sir: I have purchased two copies of your new magazine,
have read the stories, and also the praise liberally supplied
by friends and readers. I think it is time to offer a few words
of criticism, since applause and praise of this kind does
not mean much. The public lauds any new effort; it applauds
anything, even moving pictures.
“The stories you have printed so far can be grouped under
three general headings: Ghost Stories, Snake Stories, Insanity
Stories. In your first issue you printed a story called ‘Ooze’
which approached the type of semi-scientific stories that are
liked intensely by all those who are fond of the unusual,
and if you would publish at least one story of this type in
each issue of your magazine I am sure that your efforts would
register larger sales.”—Conrad A. Brandt, 563 West 150th Street
New York City.
“My dear Mr. Baird: At last it arrived—that second volume. If
you play that slow trick again on us we shall send one of our
aviators to Chicago to get the so strenuously desired copy.
“Allow me to tell you which story in the April number I liked
best and which I hate best. ‘The Scar’ by Dr. Carl Ramus was
a gem. Plausible, scientifically correct, well told, no words
wasted. ‘The Whispering Thing’ is the acme of foolish, silly,
nonsensical, high-school girl, bucket-of-blood story. If you
waste more paper on such rotten stuff I predict failure in
caps.”—Adeline Jugol, Covina Apartments, Los Angeles.
Ouch!
Luckily, though, not all our readers disrelished “The Whispering Thing.”
For instance:
“Dear sir: Having recently read the second issue of WEIRD
TALES, I cannot refrain from expressing my congratulations
on your rare fiction taste as an editor. I enjoyed reading
the novelette by Harold Ward, but the authors who wrote ‘The
Whispering Thing’ have an imagination which is extraordinary. I
happened to read this story late at night, and I began to look
for ‘spooks.’ Talk about horror and terror combined! This story
is nothing short of a marvel.
“I sincerely believe that you have an innate tendency for
selecting stories of this type, and if you keep this class
of stories running you will, without the least doubt, be a
success.”—O. R. Hamilton, 4002 Avenue F, Austin, Texas.
With regard to the poetic effusion that follows, we’re not sure whether
“Witch Hazel” is spoofing us or having a spasm of ecstasy. At any rate,
we’ll take a chance and print the thing just as she wrote it:
“Dear Editor: No words can express how much I enjoy your
magazine. Here is what I think of it:
“Oh, what is more pleasure than a show,
A party, bon bons, or even a beau?
Well, here’s the answer (all readers take heed);
WEIRD TALES and a nice quiet place to read!
“It’s my favorite magazine, and I can hardly wait for
each number to come out. I think it is the most wonderful
magazine in the world, as it is so different, so extremely
interesting—but there! I can never say enough in its praise.
As my little verse says, ‘I like it better than anything,’ and
I’ve often said I wished some editor would publish just such a
magazine, and thank you, Mr. Baird (you Good Fairy) for doing
so. I can hardly wait for the next issue. Thank you for filling
a long felt need, and good luck!”—Witch Hazel of St. Louis.
We’ve scores of flattering letters here, but we’re not going to print
them all [prolonged and loud applause], because, for one thing, we
haven’t space, and, for another, we have a sneaking suspicion that our
delight in reading them is not always shared by others. So we’ll run only
five or six more, and call it a day.
“My dear Mr. Baird: I don’t mind admitting that I was a little
leary about WEIRD TALES when I first heard of it. The fact of
the matter is, I picked up the first copy with a good deal of
prejudice against it. The reason for this prejudice is clear
enough. I have always had a healthy respect for mystery stories
and believe they are the hardest kind to write—and to judge.
“For this reason I am moved to write you and tell you how very
much my view point has changed. You have not only sold me, you
have enthused me. There is no question about your future. I’ve
talked to many friends who have read the March issue, and I
know.”—A. M. Oliver, 148 North Portage Path, Akron, Ohio.
“Dear sir: I asked my newsdealer for something different in the
magazine line today, and he handed me a copy of the April WEIRD
TALES. I’ve read many so-called mystery stories, but none can
compare with those I found in your magazine. It is something
altogether new and most fascinating. I especially enjoyed
‘The Snake Fiend’ and ‘The Conquering Will.’ Those sort of
stories appeal to me. For anybody that is looking for something
different I heartily advise your magazine. May you prosper!”—P.
W. Burrows, Kearney, Nebraska.
“Dear sirs: ... I was in the business section of Des Moines
one evening recently when my eye fell upon a copy of WEIRD
TALES. Struck by its unusual appearance, I bought one. When
I arrived home it was rather early, and I sat down to read.
Well, I had not finished a half dozen pages before I knew I had
found a marvelous book—in fact, my ideal magazine. Before I had
finished the second story I was as much in its power as our
detective friend seems to be in the power of ‘The Whispering
Thing.’...
“But here I have been taking up your time with praise of the
Wonder Magazine and haven’t spoken of the most vital thing—the
thing which makes such mighty entertainment possible. Please
find enclosed three dollars for which please enter me for a
year’s subscription to WEIRD TALES, beginning with your third
issue.”—J. C. Wolquist, 1544 Walker Street, Des Moines, Iowa.
“Dear Mr. Baird: Three weeks ago I bought a copy of WEIRD
TALES, and I am shaking yet, as you probably can tell by
my scribbling!... The first story I read was ‘The Thing of
a Thousand Shapes.’ It happened to be eleven-thirty when I
finished the first installment, and I went to bed quaking in
every limb, firmly resolved never to lay eyes on another copy
of WEIRD TALES.
“A few days later I passed a news stand. There, glaring into my
eyes, was the interesting cover of WEIRD TALES. I was about to
turn away when curiosity whispered in my ear, ‘What happened to
Billy?’
“Being a woman, curiosity, of course, won, and home I went,
with the copy tucked snugly under my arm.... And now I look
on WEIRD TALES as a friend indeed. I daren’t let my little
brother get the magazine before he does his lessons, or they
would never get done, while such an absorbing magazine is
around.”—Miss Marguerite Nicholson, 635 North Frazier Street,
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.
“Dear Mr. Baird: Congratulations! Your new magazine is simply
splendid. I have often wondered just when I would be able to go
to a news stand and buy a real magazine. Now all my worry has
ceased.... There is one trouble with it, and that is that it
doesn’t come weekly or semi-monthly.”—M. Nawrocki, 854 Robinson
Avenue, Milwaukee, Wisconsin.
“Dear Mr. Baird: ... I have thoroughly enjoyed DETECTIVE TALES,
every issue of it, and believe that there is more good reading
matter in it than in any other magazine published, and when I
saw a copy of WEIRD TALES at the news stand, with your name or
it, I could not resist getting it. And it has lived up to my
expectations. I could not put the magazine down until I had
finished every story, and that was about three o’clock the next
morning.”...—Mary Sharon, 1912 Main Street, Galena, Kansas.
And it’s now three o’clock in the afternoon, and the printer is calling
for copy, and—
That’ll be all.