Nelson Algren - The New Black Mask Quarterly (№ 1)

As for myself? Well I can’t say too much at present but tallish and considered rather good-looking — if you like the dark, Romantic type. Perhaps more of a thinker than a man of action but reasonably outgoing with a good sense of humour, affectionate, responsive and above all sensitive! Much travelled and tanned!

I’ve been told that I’m inclined to be a bit suspicious, someone once said Paranoid (cheek!) and to search out other peoples’ faults but I have not discovered any in you so far. May I be rather personal for a moment and say how much I like some of the frocks and suits you wear to work? But I can’t say that I entirely approved of the rather revealing sunsuits you and your red-headed flat mate wore by the Serpentine last Sunday. And the horrid Lewd way she lay, exposing all she had got! She definitely flaunts herself does that one and is obviously obsessed by the evil Serpent SEX. You see it is true, as Mother used to say, that some girls “have no sense of what is proper.” They taunt men, lead them on and then are surprised when they end up in trouble! But that’s the red headed Tart’s problem, not yours. I see that I’ve been led away by her disgusting goings-on from saying that in your grey dress, the navy one and the dark brown suit you remind me more than somewhat of my Mother and that is really the reason I have written to you. She had tiny feet like you. She always got her “Boots” as she called them at the fashionable Mayfair shop Pinet which was the only place where she could obtain the extra narrow size 3 fitting. I still have a pair of her “Boots” in a special case of which I’ll tell you more some time. It is a very special case with three locks and a combination padlock so you can tell the contents must be important.

Well I must sign off now for “time’s a-fleetin’ ” — without of course any hope of a reply. Think of me just as a shadowy background figure, a humble patient sort of chap who does not intend to interfere with your life at all, but to remain watching over you with the very friendliest of intentions. Believe me ever

Sincerely yours

Laszlo

Dear Busy Bee,

Who sped away from Barclays Bank at lunch-time today and not on her usual stroll to Lincoln’s Inn Fields or the Thames? Who verily raced along the Strand and past the Royal Courts of Justice (Justice! — that’s a joke), then up Chancery Lane? Who had to jump out of the way of a mad lout in a careening black Bentley? Who went into Star Yard and entered the gloomy legal premises of Messrs. Castle, Harding & Walker? That’s right — Barbara Busy Bee. And who followed her and waited ever so patiently outside? Yes — Faithful Laszlo. My Mother always told me that Patience was a great virtue. “Just wait and see.” “Our turn will come,” she used to say. I do hope that there was no very serious reason for you having to consult those legal codgers. If I had to hazard a guess, and it is something that I am rather good at, then I should say trouble at home. By which, of course, I mean trouble with that red-headed Tart who takes men to your flat when you are not there!! Not that I should dream of interfering there unless, of course, I sensed you wanted me to. Sometimes we all have to turn at bay!

I’ve been brooding on this troublesome, indeed worrying, problem of yours despite glares from an ugly, probably disease-ridden, Keeper in a Park which shall remain nameless. I must say that it is a shame you have been forced to go to Law to get that Tart out. “You can’t trust the Law,” Mother used to say. How right she proved to be! Patient, clever, resourceful, “a woman of most unusual qualities,” as they admitted in Court, would you believe that such a woman could end up dying in a prison cell?

Yours sincerely

Laszlo

Dear Barbara Benyon,

Today, rather selfishly I suppose, I want to write about a matter which does tend to weigh me down a bit. I say selfishly because I know I should only be concerned with that Scarlet Woman flat mate who is making your life hell at the moment, and turning your flat into a noisome pit with her SEX goings-on. But this personal matter oppresses me somewhat and I just feel I must get some of it down on paper, set it straight for once and for all. Obviously you can’t reply but I sense that you are “simpatico” and a trouble shared is a trouble halved. Anyway, see what you think.

A while ago now, I suppose it must be quite some years, against my father’s wishes, I instigated a long series of seances for communication with the control Black Feather and Mother’s mediumship.

The communicators who gave me the messages were the famous old Italian fiddle-maker Stradivarius and the Russian composer Rimsky-Korsakov. Up to that time you have my word for it that no messages from those illustrious gents had been received at our house! Strad who manifested first stated at once that he was sending the messages solely for me, and that I must collect them and write them all down, and that the financial results were to be solely for Mother and myself, and mainly for the purpose of assisting me and establishing me in my career. At hardly any of these seances was my father present!

Sorry if I have rambled on a bit but you know how it is, tilings do tend to get bottled-up over a period, particularly if you have no one to “chin-wag” with, and then it’s best just to let off steam. Anyway, thanks again for listening.

Sincerely yours

Laszlo

Dear Barbara Benyon,

Today I was very touched to see you looking pale and cast down with care — all because of the terrible troubles that the red-headed whore has brought upon you. She is definitely SEX mad — I know the type!

Of course I noticed that you did not go out with her this Sunday even though the sun was baking hot. Very wise. Take my tip and keep away from her as much as possible until the creaking, slow-grinding Law at last compels her to leave your flat! I noted by the way that she has now got some oily looking chap, probably her Pimp, to accompany her to and from work. But her time will come so please do try and cheer up. Forget her and that will undoubtedly bring the roses back into your cheeks.

Sincerely yours

Laszlo

Dear Barbara Benyon,

Only me! Yes, verily, I am doubly blessed. Fortunate indeed to have the famous Black Feather as my control — yes, you’re right, the very same Black Feather who was once “left-hand control” for the illustrious Madame Eusapia Palladino. And dear old Strad who manifests so readily, really “at the drop of a hat.” Rimsky is much more difficult I’m afraid, and sometimes seems to be sulking, but I suppose he is still much tied up with music matters on The Other Side.

Barbara — we are both, there’s no point in being falsely modest, generously endowed with blessings. However I do sometimes wonder if you may not be the type who accepts same without much thought for others less fortunate.

A friend of mine is a case in point. He happens to be smallish. For that reason he had to take humble employment — definitely not in keeping with his education, upbringing, family background, etc. This friend of mine was always most methodical, patient and anxious to please. But the men in the place where he worked were immediately jealous of him and could see that the Boss took a friendly interest in him and that he was well placed for early promotion. So they started a campaign! Threats, hints, lies and abuse! They tried a number of plots which all failed miserably. Vile libels, etc! The last straw was the planting of stolen goods! A fiendish set-up you say? But would you credit that such a chap would get his own back on that foul gang of toughs? Well he did! With Strad’s help! They certainly reaped the whirlwind, or should I say the furnace? Ha-ha! IT 1tell you all about it one day.