World of Darkness — The World Beyond

by G. Jack Urso

World of Darkness (1977) and The World Beyond (1978) are hour-long pilot movies for a proposed supernatural series about Paul Taylor, a sportswriter, who dies in a motorcycle accident but is brought back to life with the ability to talk with the dead, or, more accurately, they with him. The spirit of a dead person reaches out to Taylor and urges him to help someone close to the deceased. Taylor is compelled to help to quiet the voice until the next case comes along. 

The concept draws a bit from Kolchak: The Night Stalker with a roving reporter investigating classic horror concepts and reflects the paranoid psychological plots in the post-Rosemary’s Baby/The Exorcist era. Despite not being picked up for a series, World of Darkness and, especially the second pilot, The World Beyond, still managed to attract a small following. Both films are presented below from the Aeolus 13 Umbra YouTube channel.

World of Darkness (1977)

World of Darkness, on the Aeolus 13 Umbra YouTube channel.

The first pilot movie, World of Darkness, subtitled “Sentence of Death” (original airdate April 17, 1977), jumps in with Paul Taylor already accustomed to the voices of the dead and on a case. His origin story is told all in a 90-second pre-credits sequence. We don’t learn anything about Taylor’s personal life except that he is a sportswriter, which seems to be almost a spurious detail since we don’t see Taylor show any interest at all in sports or reference his career in this first pilot film. No family or friends are mentioned. Taylor is as much a mystery as those he investigates.

Van Dusen as
Paul Taylor.

Here, a voice from beyond compels Taylor to intervene with Clara Sanford. Clara’s father committed suicide prior to the start of the events in the film and is visiting her Aunt Joanna due to the dubious and unexplained details of her father’s death — and Clara is hearing voices from beyond as well. During the course of his investigation, Paul discovers Joanna has a son who hasn't left his room in five years, and this knowledge puts him and Clara at risk.

The supernatural aspect of the story is minimal. The “voice” guides Taylor at a couple points in the tale, but those parts could have been written out entirely and the plot put forth as any standard mystery-thriller. The supernatural element does give it a distinguishing characteristic, but the story slows down in the middle due to too much exposition. This continues into the final act and the climax when Paul confronts Joanna and her son. 

TV Guide listing.

Director Jerry London, who helmed the epic 1980 miniseries Shogun, worked with what he had, but the script is long on exposition. Writer Art Wallace had a long resume starting in 1954 and included many of the hit shows of the era, including work on Dark Shadows, writing 87 episodes, serving as story creator and developer for 267 episodes, and writing the series’ bible, as reported by the extensive Dark Shadows Wiki. It is from this classic series we see Wallace draw on to create a moody atmosphere in a large, old house with characters driven by fate and circumstances; however, it also lapses into the weakness of the soap opera format (which Dark Shadows was) in creating long bits of dialog to explain the story rather than let the action tell the tale and trust the viewers to follow along.

The World Beyond (1978)

The World Beyond, on the Aeolus 13 Umbra YouTube channel.

Whatever the problems were with World of Darkness, it generated enough interest to warrant the rare privilege of a second pilot, once again staring Granville Van Dusen as Paul Taylor and this time joined by JoBeth Williams as Marian Faber, who Taylor has been called upon to help, and Barnard Hughes as their guide Andy Borchard. Wallace, this time around, creates a truly terrifying horror tale with The World Beyond, subtitled “Monster” (original airdate January 27, 1978). The pacing is tighter than the World of Darkness with periods of real suspense. The director, Noel Black, made his mark on many of the popular series of the 1960s through the 1980s, including the 1980s revival of The Twilight Zone. 

In this pilot, Taylor is compelled by the voice of a dead man who sends him to protect his sister, played by Williams, from a monster the man unleashed with an ancient ritual, and which killed him in return — a golem, a creature made of mud and possessed of great strength and murderous intent. 

TV Guide ad and listing.

Set on a secluded island in Maine, Taylor and Marian are unwittingly led further into danger by a reluctant Borchard, who suspects the reported mud monster is real. Trapped in a boarded-up old home in the wilds of Maine and hunted by a soulless monster, the isolated location intensifies the paranoia and danger. Watching it alone on a cold winter night, it actually did terrify me a bit as a kid. Writer Art Wallace learns from the first pilot and cuts down the exposition, increases the action, and makes the danger tangible.

The camera work includes some interesting angles to emphasize the mood. Given the era and budget, the monster suit itself is unremarkable, but sufficient for the purposes of a pilot movie. Little is seen of the actual monster during most of film's action, likely as a decision to minimize the monster suit's shortcomings on screen; however, I think it was a good decision for plotting purposes as it builds anticipation for a final confrontation. With access to more advanced special effects, modern horror productions try to scare he audience with the gruesome realism they can manifest with the click of a button. In The World Beyond, the tension slowly builds. Like the characters in the film, the viewer is being stalked by an unknown entity. We know as little about it as they do, so we share their fear.

(Left to right) Barnard Hughes, JoBeth Williams, Granville Von Dusen. 

We learn a little more about Paul Taylor in the second pilot. He was born in Minnesota, lives in a small, dark, three-room apartment in New York City, has an anxious editor waiting on his book about skydiving, and calls his mother every Tuesday. Small details, but they give the character depth and make him more relatable as a protagonist.

Like the first pilot, the episode ends with Paul Taylor heading back on the road to face the unknown yet again somewhere else. The 1970s had a pattern of lonely men cursed with extraordinary gifts fated to walk alone. The Incredible Hulk with Bill Bixby and Kung Fu with David Carradine come to mind in this regard, as well as The Six Million Dollar Man and The Man from Atlantis. Taylor fits into this pattern, but as Holmes needs a Watson, as Mulder needs a Scully, or as Kolchak needs an exasperated editor, Taylor needs a partner to play off of and make necessary bits of exposition fit more naturally into the narrative. This may have evolved had the pilot gone to series as the lonely, rugged hero bit might run its course quickly.

The pit where the golem was created.

Slasher horror film aficionados will likely find these films boring, and, in truth, World of Darkness does drag; however, fans of gothic horror like Dark Shadows or the Hammer Studios films will discover some familiar elements. Of the two pilots, The World Beyond better reflects the intended series concept and is a solid tale of TV terror well-told.

I have a friend who had an out-of-body, near-death experience, and it certainly changed her. Yet, in a way, every time we dream we have a sort of out-of-body experience and every time we sleep, we flirt with death, giving ourselves over to unconsciousness and trusting that we will wake up from our visit to The World Beyond — won’t we?

Sleep well tonight . . .

 

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Tale of Moonlight (1968) Soviet Animated Short Film

by G. Jack Urso

 

From the Aeolus 13 Umbra YouTube Channel.

It’s always like that — if you try very hard to correct your mistake, the world becomes brighter. Oh, so much brighter! — Tale of Moonlight

I was first exposed to animated films from behind the Iron Curtin in the 1970s on PBS’ International Animation Festival (1975-1976), which I have previously reviewed on Aeolus 13 Umbra. Compared to American animated films of the same period, appreciating their Soviet counterparts requires a shift away from the style pallet of Western Saturday morning cartoon fare. American animation houses of the same period, Disney, Filmation, Hanna Barbara, Walter Lantz, and Warner Brothers, are easily identifiable and, of course, in English. So, navigating Soviet animation, with different artistic sensibilities, cultural context, and in another language, takes a bit of a shift for Western audiences; however, with patience one can appreciate the sense of fantasy and whimsy in many of the productions.

One excellent example is Tale of Moonlight (1968). Directed by Irina Gurvich and written by Gurvich and Nina Gernet. The narrator is Russian actor Viktor Khalatov. Gurvich herself is a graduate of Kyiv Art Institute, Ukraine. In this nine-minute short film, a black kitten accidently knocks over its owner’s lamp, breaking it. Going in search of a new one, the kitten thinks the Moon would be a good replacement. Unable to capture the Moon, the kitten returns home covered in glowing moon dust, thinking it failed, but its owner, a kindly doctor, is pleased because the light he needs comes from the kitten itself.

The story ends on the note: “It’s always like that — if you try very hard to correct your mistake, the world becomes brighter. Oh, so much brighter!”

How much better would our world be if it learned this little film’s lesson.

The translation of the narration below was provided by Aeolus 13 Umbra YouTube channel subscriber MsMythOfDarkness, transcribed in Russian by Gemini 2.5 Pro and then translated to English by GPT-5.

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Screen shot from Tale of Moonlight.

Tale of Moonlight (1968) Narration:

Once, an old doctor had a kitten.

He was completely black — black as night — because that’s how he was born.

From morning until evening, the doctor treated children and grew very tired, because he always thought more about others than about himself.

In the evenings, the doctor would rest and always read the newspaper.

But the kitten would bother him, because what he loved most of all was playing cat-and-mouse.

“What’s this?” the doctor asked, upset.

“This is a tale about moonlight.”

“What have I done? I broke the doctor’s lamp.”

The kitten felt terribly guilty, because in the dark the doctor couldn’t read — not even with his glasses.

But where could she find a new light bulb? The kitten didn’t know.

“Maybe there’s a lamp shining over there,” thought the kitten. “I have to run quickly.”

Of course, the kitten was a little scared to be alone at night, but still he ran and ran, because . . .

On the hill stood the Moon — just then rising into the sky from behind it.

The kitten saw tiny fields and seas, and the lights of cities — because when you climb very high, everything below looks small, very small.

The kitten grew terribly bored and wanted to go home, because there was no lamp on the Moon after all. It was simply bright. That’s all.

“I think I’ve finally found a lamp,” the kitten rejoiced, because a star was shining even brighter than a lamp.

And by that time, the Moon had gone all the way around the Earth and returned home — because home, after all, is the best place of all.

“I don’t understand what he’s so happy about,” thought the kitten, because, in his view, nothing good had happened.

“What’s this?” said the doctor. “Why is it so bright?”

“I tried so very hard to make it bright again," the kitten wanted to answer, "but even the Moon laughed at me.”

That moonlit path, perhaps, appeared because all along the way the moonlight was falling from the kitten’s fur.

It’s always like that — if you try very hard to correct your mistake, the world becomes brighter. Oh, so much brighter!

 

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Mid-Century Modern Elegance: The Skyline Restaurant and Terrace Lounge, Catskill, NY

by G. Jack Urso

The Skyline Restaurant and Terrace Lounge in the mid-1960s.
All interior and exterior images of the Skyline are from period postcards.

In late 1989, I started a job in education at Hudson Correctional Facility in upstate New York. I spent most days going back and forth over the Rip Van Winkle Bridge in Catskill, NY, connecting the East and West sides of the banks of the Hudson River, not far from artist Fredrick Church’s historic Olana estate. As I crossed over from Hudson to Catskill, just past the toll booths on the right was a turn off with small hill on top of which sat a beautiful 1960s-era Mid-Century Modern building with a large sign that advertised the “Skyline Restaurant.”

Clearly abandoned, the building sat windswept and neglected amid the encroaching scrubs and trees. After a stressful day in the prison, and having a somewhat sentimental nature, I looked forward to crossing the Rip Van Winkle and even getting stuck on it during the seemingly endless construction on the bridge that took place in the early 1990s. It gave me just that much longer to check out the Skyline and marvel at its huge glass windows and slanted wooden beams that had the catbird seat looking over the Hudson. Past the bridge on the opposite side, one could see the large gothic Olana mansion set amid a sculpted landscape. At twilight, the golden glow of the setting sun would bath the Skyline. The scene must have been gorgeous any time of year, but particularly in the fall when an Oriental carpet of colors lay throughout the Hudson River Valley.

The main dining room at The Skyline Restaurant and Terrace Lounge, mid-1960s.

Its full name, I discovered many years later, was the Skyline Restaurant and Terrace Lodge. The “Terrace Lodge” moniker recalls the famous Borscht Belt Catskill resort Grossinger’s Terrace Room and, indeed, the name is still used with some finer restaurants to evoke a sense of class and fine dining.

Eventually, my work shifted me north and away from the Catskill area. Many years later, when I returned to teach in prisons, I began crossing the Rip Van Winkle Bridge once again. To my disappointment, the Skyline Restaurant building was gone and if there were any remains, they lay hidden by a thick growth of brush and trees that now obscured the hill.

Overhead map of the north side of the Rip Van Winkle Bridge with the approximate location in red of where the Skyline Restaurant and Terrace Lounge once stood (Google Maps, 2025).

In the decades following my first encounter with the Skyline, I obviously didn’t forget about it, but occasional internet searches revealed little until finally not long ago I came across a post on Facebook in which former customers recalled the old restaurant. Then, I finally had enough information to begin pulling together some history of the restaurant and what became of it. As the Mid-Century Modern design of the building suggests, the Skyline Restaurant was built to cater to that generation and it did so with a classic, and expensive, Mid-Century American menu. 

The Skyline Building

The ten specially laminated wood beams that support the roof each weigh a ton and are 61 feet long, varying in thickness from 6 to 20 inches. The wide fireplace and chimney with its unusual hood are field stone. Floors are Vermont slate, tile and carpeting.

     —     Description from the back of a Skyline Restaurant and Lounge menu.

The main dining room at The Skyline Restaurant and Terrace Lounge, 

looking west out the windows, mid-1960s.

The Skyline Restaurant and Terrace Lodge was built and run by Ben and Helen Winter. According to a relative I connected with on Facebook, they operated it throughout the 1960s and later sold it in the early 1970’s. It’s not clear how long it ran under the new owners, but it was definitely an abandoned building by the late 1980s. I suspect it closed down sometime in the 1970s for reasons I’ll get into later.

Looking at the long row of floor-to-ceiling windows and the skylights, anyone who ever had to pay a utility bill probably can see one of the largest expenses likely was the power bill. Sitting on a wind-swept hill above the Hudson River, freezing in the winters, baking in the summers, and not to mention two large walk-in coolers, the electricity expenses must have been considerable. The Winter’s sold it around the time of the 1973 Oil Crisis set in and they were probably lucky to do so. Given the Skyline’s location and reputation, it must have seemed like a wise investment at the time, but one can’t predict how quickly things can change. That is just speculation. There can be many reasons for a business to close completely unrelated to its expenses or income.

Back cover of the menu for The Skyline Restaurant and Terrace Lounge menu, 

circa mid-1960s.

At some point, the structure is reported to have burned down, but exactly when is not known. In the late 1980s and early 1990s, as best as I could tell at the time, the structure just looked abandoned, not gutted by fire, but I could only see the front of the building as I drove by and it sat on a hill a few hundred feet from the bridge turn off. Nevertheless, there may have been a fire and the structure left standing in the hope it could be restored, but a photo posted in 2023 on a Catskill, NY, community group page on Facebook, clearly shows a dilapidated building with the roof fallen in. The photo’s date is not known, and likely before 2023. So, while the date and extent of damage of the fire is unknown, whenever the building was eventually demolished it was after the early 1990s.

The ruins of the Skyline Restaurant before demolition. Some fire damage on one beam can be seen. Credit: Clifford Beele, Facebook, Jul. 22, 2023.

What’s on the Menu

Kitchen walls of glazed ceramic tiles, stainless steel equipment, and minimum 180 degree automatic dishwashing . . . Ample refrigeration is provided by two large walk-in coolers . . . our Neptune Live Lobster Tank with its constantly circulating salt water, the next best thing to a lobster’s natural environment . . . keeps them very much alive.

    —     Description from the back of a Skyline Restaurant and Lounge menu.

The Skyline Restaurant and Terrace Lounge menu, circa mid-1960s.

The Skyline’s menu is a model of Mid-Century American dining — for meat eaters. If you were a vegetarian your choices were limited to five salads, potatoes, the “vegetable of the day,” and that’s pretty much it. The surf and turf offerings, however, were expansive and expensive. The brief selection below includes both the original menu prices circa 1965 with the equivalent 2025 dollar amount in parentheses (according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics CPI Inflation Calculator).

Broiled 16 oz. Sirloin Steak	$5.95 ($61.61)
Broiled 14 oz. Filet Mignon	$5.95 ($61.61)
Spring Lamb Chops	$3.80 ($39.35)
Calf’s Liver	$3.25 ($33.65)
2-lb Lobster	$4.95 ($51.25)
Frog Legs Provencale	$4.00 ($41.42)
Fried Frog Legs	$4.00 ($41.42)
Fried Florida Shrimp	$3.00 ($31.06)
Broiled Brook Trout Amondine	$3.00 ($31.06)
Broiled Swordfish Steak	$2.75 ($28.47)

As you can see, some of those 2025 price equivalents are breathtaking, to say the least. Similar steak dishes are cheaper today at a place like The Outback, but the scope and quality of the Skyline’s menu would be hard to match.

As wide as the menu’s offering are, keep in mind, they had to have all this on hand and be confident they could sell most of it before the sell-by dates.

Inside the menu of The Skyline Restaurant and Terrace Lounge menu, circa mid-1960s.

Another aspect of the Skyline’s menu was the wide choice of alcohol, including (among many, many, others) burgundy, champagne, chianti, Rhine wines, sherry, vermouth, port, gin, Courvoisier, Dubonnet, brandy, vodka, and, yes, domestic and imported beers.

The bar at The Skyline Restaurant and Terrace Lounge, mid-1960s.

People came to the Skyline to eat the finest cuisine, drink the finest wine and liquors, and pay damn well for it and the service. By all accounts, under the Winter’s ownership, the Skyline did just that.

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Sidebars and Salad Bars

Valle's Steak House sign, Albany, NY, circa 1960s. Credit: Saxon Sign.

The Skyline Restaurant recalls another Mid-Century eatery, Valle’s Steak House. A chain scattered throughout the Eastern United States, Valle’s sported a menu of pricey steak and seafood options as well as a cocktail lounge. Several locations, like the one in Albany, NY, and Springfield, MA, sported a Mid-Century Modern building design with fieldstone, timber, and large glass elements. Valle’s got hit during the economic downturn and energy crisis of the 1970s and fell prey to high inheritance taxes after the death of founder Donald Valle in 1977, eventually closing in the 1980s. The large-scale Mid-Century Modern design of the buildings, like those pictured below, also contributed to high overhead costs.

Valle's Steak House, Springfield, MA. Circa 1970s.

The former Valle's Steak House, Albany, NY, had a similar design to the one in Springfield, MA., now Bryant and Stratton College (Nov. 2024). The covered carport in front of the entrance, visible in the photo above, has since been removed here, though the exterior is otherwise unchanged.

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The Transsexual Skyline Squatter

After being sold, the Skyline reportedly didn’t remain open long, though how long is not known. Access to Catskill phone books from the era would help solve the mystery. Typically, one can find those at a local library, but that would require about an hour drive each way (ironic, since I once worked across from the Catskill Public Library for several years). While continuing my research on what happened to the Skyline after it closed, I came across a cryptic Facebook posting noting that two individuals squatted on the Skyline property for a short time (presumably before the fire). Their names were John-Paul and Dawn Langley Simmons.

John-Paul and Dawn Langley Simmons. Credit unknown.

I wasn't sure if that was a figurative or literal reference to squatting, but I thought it unusual is that after 45-50 years later, someone still recalled their names. If someone remembered them for so long there has to be a bigger story — and, boy, was there ever!

As it turns out, Dawn Langley Simmons, born and raised in England and later moved to Charleston, South Carolina, was named Gordon Langley Hall at birth. Born intersexed, but assigned male, she consequently went through a sex change operation as an adult. An experienced editor and prolific author, Dawn wrote several books before her move to the Catskills in the 1970s, funded, presumably, by her success in publishing.

Dawn, a White woman, married John-Paul Simmons, an African American man (alternatively described as a chauffeur, mechanic, and sculptor) in 1969. Interracial marriage in South Carolina (where the Simmons married) was illegal until 1967 when the Supreme Court declared anti-miscegenation laws unconstitutional. To its credit, New York, along with six other states, never had any anti-interracial marriage laws on the books in its history.

John-Paul and Dawn Langley Simmons on their wedding day. Credit unknown.

Looking for more accepting environs, the Simmons headed north. According to a The New York Times article, “Transsexual Starting New Life in Catskills,” Nov. 23, 1975, the couple moved into a former gothic home where President Martin Van Buren, who lived in nearby Kinderhook, was married. The Simmons had plans to restore it but abandoned the property when a book deal Dawn was working on fell through and they were unable to complete the sale, leaving the home, reportedly, “an empty wreck.” 

The Simmons’ purported squatting in the Skyline, if true, seems like it could have been another attempt gone bad to restore a building. If so, it likely occurred after 1975 since the Times article does not mention it (and such an incident would be relevant to the story), but before 1982 when the Simmons divorced. The fire must have happened after the Simmons left the Skyline, if indeed they were there.

After this difficult period of her life, Dawn returned to Charleston and went on to author a total of 20 books, novels, biographies, and children’s books, before passing away in 2000. John-Paul moved to Albany, NY, continuing as an artist, and passed away in 2012. In his obituary, though long divorced, Dawn was still listed as John-Paul’s “predeceased wife.”  

Concluding Thoughts

Matchbook.

I have a fondness for old buildings, even the ones no longer there, as covered in my essay, Novak Bowling Supplies, Avenue A, in which I explore where the old shed that contained the aforementioned bowling business once stood and tracked down who owned it and what became of him. Likewise, with both family and friends having been involved in the restaurant business, I have a fondness for the history and drama behind the scenes in food service as covered in my articles The Last Days of the Metro Diner and The Rise and Fall of Big Dom’s Subs. I tried to unearth what information about the Skyline as I could, but there are few print sources available on the internet, and not much on social media, so the information I sought would probably be found through oral histories by speaking with those who recall The Skyline Restaurant and Terrace Lodge, as well as the local library and newspaper archives, but I would have to live in the area to do that.

There’s more that could be dug up about the Skyline, and I suspect it would be no less dramatic, or sentimental, than it was for the Metro Diner and Big Dom’s Subs — though, admittedly, with a much better menu and view.

Sunset Over Olana and Rip Van Winkle Bridge by Kenneth Salaz - Art Renewal Center.

 

Note: Anyone who ever ate at, worked at, or knows any of the lore surrounding the Skyline Restaurant, please share your comments below!

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Vertex Magazine: Psychedelic 70s Sci-Fi Imagery

by G. Jack Urso

 

Vertex Vol. 1, No. 2, June 1973.

Vertex, “The Magazine of Science Fiction,” published between 1973 and 1975, by Mankind Publishing, Los Angeles, Calif., is noted in SFE The Encyclopedia of Science Fiction as one of the first glossy or “slick” Sci-Fi publications. Its content featured Science Fiction short stories and science-related news. Guided by Art Director Andrew Furr and his Associate Art Directors Monte Rogers and Bill Wright, the magazine was known for its creative, surreal, and oft times psychedelic imagery.

Contents page for Vertex Vol.1, No. 2, June 1973.

For two years, between April 1973 and 1975, it was published bi-monthly in a glossy, letter-size, saddle-stapled format for $1.50 ($10.91 in 2025). Between June and August 1975, it was published monthly but with newsprint paper in tabloid style, and a drop in price down to a dollar. The change was due in part to a paper shortage, but the magazine also faced issues in terms of costs and advertising revenue. Attracting work from such authors as Forrest J. Ackerman, Alan Brennert, William Carlson, Harlan Ellison, George R. R. Martin, Steven Utley, John Varley, and with over a dozen feature stories in each issue, publication costs must have been significant. 

Additionally, the amount of advertising seems a bit lacking, at least in this second issue. Of the 100 pages, including both front and back covers, there are only seven advertisements, all full page, six for books or magazines, including one for Vertex itself, and one for J&B Scotch. There are no half-page or smaller advertisements, none for audio or electronics, which would appeal to the target demographic — not even a Columbia House Record Club offer!  

By contrast, Analog, one of the premier Sci-Fi publications, had a similar ad-to-feature ratio, though some issues boosted revenue by including some smaller classified ads; however, with a wider circulation than Vertex, Analog could charge more for those ads. It also used much cheaper newsprint, not glossy paper, used no color, except for the spectacular cover art, and, as a digest, was half the size of Vertex. Analog also had the advantage of a stronger literary reputation and a lower cost of only 75 cents in 1975. It is still being published today.

Vertex Vol. 3, No 2, June 1975, after it switched to newsprint.

Another consideration is that Vertex did not have a broad color palette. The imagery was in black and white except for a couple monochromatic layouts, orange or green for this issue. This two-color printing process for popular publications was not uncommon at the time, but the 4-color or higher printing used in top-selling magazines increased public expectations for all periodicals. The glossy paper helped offset that a bit, as well as the quality of the art, but switching to newsprint was the harbinger of doom and Vertex lasted only three issues in that format. 

So, Vertex had some challenges from the beginning that probably contributed to its fate. Omni would pick up the torch in 1978 as the premiere glossy Sci-Fi publication with a much better ad-to-feature ratio and a full-color, more polished look thanks to publisher Bob Guiccione’s experience with Penthouse, with which Omni shared a similar look — at least in terms of design, if not in content.

Main-in subscription card for Vertex.

Yet, it is art of Vertex which continues to stand out and worth noting. Exemplative of early-mid 1970s publication imagery geared for the Counterculture, the art has a dreamlike, fantasy quality to it. It is less explanatory, as far as promoting a deeper understanding of the story, and more suggestive or even just for aesthetics, breaking up long blocks of text and providing a space for the reader to contemplate the stories’ ideas.

Below is a selection of images from Vertex Vol.1, No. 2, June 1973.

Front Cover: Tune in, turn on, and turn the page . . . 

In an overcrowded world, having children is a threat to both the world and to the parents. Art by Monte Rogers for “Three Tinks on the House,” by F. M. Busby.

 

The imagery in Vertex could be viscerally physical and erotic, as in this artwork by Monte Rogers for the short story “Three Tinks on the House,” by F. M. Busby.

Reflecting the sensory experiences of LSD, and a countercultural trope, a man sees sounds, hears colors, and becomes a guru. Art by Kevin Davidson for the short story “All the Sounds of the Rainbow,” by Norman Spinrad.

Art by Kevin Davidson for “All the Sounds of the Rainbow,” by Norman Spinrad.

Expanding one's consciousness. Art by Kevin Davidson for “All the Sounds of the Rainbow,” by Norman Spinrad.

Art by Kevin Davidson for “All the Sounds of the Rainbow,” by Norman Spinrad.

The Commander of U-999 waits to fight again long after the war has ended. Art by Alicia Austin for a short story by Edward Wellen.

Science fact article on the size of the universe. 

Dystopic stories dominated 1970s pre-Star Wars Sci-Fi.

Art by Alicia Austin for “Crash Cameron and the Slime Beast” by Steven Utley.

Art by Monte Rogers for “The Alibi Machine” by Larry Niven.

Art by Monte Rogers for “The Alibi Machine” by Larry Niven. 

Art by Monte Rogers for “The Alibi Machine” by Larry Niven. 

A very short story by Forrest J. Ackerman.

For potential alien visitors, Earth gets a big F. Things have only gotten worse.

Art by Monte Rogers for “The Jewel” by D. William Paul.

Art by Monte Rogers for “The Jewel” by D. William Paul.

A drawing showing the complexity of planetary orbits.

Cat or Kzinti? Only Larry Niven and artist Tim Kirk know for sure!

From a feature on Skylab, Vertex covered Science Fact as well as Science Fiction.

In the 1970s, the proposal to tow icebergs from Antartica to drought-stricken regions, however unfeasible, captured popular interest. Nevertheless, the idea continues to come up periodically. Art by Monte Rogers.

Back Cover: “Our Earth. Let's keep it blue and beautiful.”
In keeping with the times, Vertex had a strong ecological message.

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