Escaping Dreamland by Charlie Lovett

Author:Charlie Lovett
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blackstone Publishing
Published: 2020-08-03T18:45:43+00:00

XIX

New York City, Chelsea, 2010

When he discovered that Angela Robbins, whose name was neither Susan nor Sarah but who did curate the collection that contained the Stratemeyer papers, was at a conference in Chicago and wouldn’t be back until Wednesday morning, Robert had returned home and started researching pulp magazines. He soon discovered that something called the Gotham Pulp Collectors Club met at the Muhlenberg branch of the New York Public Library on West Twenty-Third on the third Saturday of every month. A quick call to the Muhlenberg put him in touch with one of the members of the club, Tony Esposito, whom the librarian called “king of the pulps.”

“He’s got a stupendous collection—something like ten thousand magazines. Plus, he’s a human database. He can tell you practically every story in every magazine.”

Tony Esposito ran an IT business out of his apartment in a modern building overlooking the High Line, a section of disused elevated train track that had been converted into a linear park. He worked at home, and would be happy for Robert to stop in any time, he said. “I’m always ready to take a break from work to talk about pulps,” he said.

Tony Esposito greeted Robert at the door wearing a Star Wars T-shirt and a pair of cargo shorts. His dark hair was mussed, and Robert got the distinct impression he had been in bed as recently as five minutes earlier. In the living room, with its floor-to-ceiling windows on one side, stood a fifteen-foot-high wall of built-in sleek white bookcases with locking glass doors and a rolling ladder. The room was furnished with a desk, chairs, and a table of polished chrome and pale maple along with several leather armchairs. Rebecca would have loved it. Robert felt the pang of her absence as he stepped into a room she could have designed.

Every shelf in the towering bookcases brimmed with pulp magazines in glassine bags. In the center of the wall stood a custom-built glass display case with its own lighting.

“These are the real gems,” said Tony. “Amazing Stories number one, Weird Tales number one, The Shadow number one, and Astounding Science Fiction number one. Originally that was forty cents worth of stories; now they’re worth about twenty-five grand. Not exactly comic book prices, but still.”

Robert stared at the cover of the first issue of Amazing Stories from April 1926. A Saturn-like planet hung in the background of an image of ice-skating men dressed in furs. Above them, atop mountains of snow and ice, perched two sailing ships, from which men were rappelling down. In bold orange type the cover advertised stories by H. G. Wells, Jules Verne, and Edgar Allan Poe.

“How many pulps do you have?” said Robert, stepping back to take in the expanse of the wall.

“About twelve thousand. I’m getting new ones in all the time. I just keep the good stuff here at home—five thousand or so. The rest are in a storage unit.”

“Rumor has it you know every story in every magazine.

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