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In Robinson's third novel, questions of personality and self-esteem in an undemonstrative woman arise for a widowed environmental specialist who maintains a probationary approach to her second marriage. By Annie Proulx. Proulx's new novel follows the destiny of Bob Dollar, abandoned at 8 on a Denver doorstep, through the high plains of Texas and Oklahoma, where he seeks locations for hog factories until he encounters the real folks who live there and is caught up in their yarns and legends.

By Max Ludington. This entertaining first novel hits the road with Jason, Ludington's year-old narrator, who joins a troupe of nomads following the Grateful Dead in the fall of , relishing casual hygiene and bootleg tapes, and worshiping Jerry Garcia. By Richard Powers. This dazzling, difficult novel, Powers's eighth, follows the lives of a talented mixed he Jewish, she black couple in America from about on; their sufferings are reflected in musical and scientific developments.

By Pete Dexter. Set in 's Los Angeles, where real life was basically film noir, this novel of harsh, precise everyday violence by the author of the scary novel ''Paris Trout'' involves a cynical detective, a young woman who surely deserves better than what she gets and a black caddie, nearly 18, who is nice to animals and serves as the book's moral center. By Julie Hecht. The narrator of Julie Hecht's first novel, a photographer of some repute and the owner of a tone of voice that mocks her own narcissism, suffers a feeling of disensoulment, a consequence of her long attachment to a man much younger than herself who has committed suicide.

By DBC Pierre. A first novel that is smart, ridiculous and funny even though it is nourished chiefly by the Columbine High massacre of ; its year-old protagonist, whose best friend has killed 16 classmates, is the focus of the town's lust for retribution. By Charles Simic. Tidy, blunt verses whose moral vision is rooted in an appreciation of the absurd, a surrealism of a sort that is always in position to raise existential questions about daily life. By Alan S. A tale of romance, adventure and the redemption of a war correspondent, Joe Shelby, a cynical hack determined to conquer England's highest peak, and in the process tame a worsening neurological disorder; by a veteran correspondent for The Times.

By Jonathan Raban. Both a kind of historical novel and domestic drama, ''Waxwings,'' set in Seattle in , ostensibly concerns a writer accused of child abduction, but its most real presence is a Chinese contractor, an illegal immigrant who bosses a team of illegal Mexicans. By Mario Vargas Llosa. By Andrew Huebner.

Rooted in the author's family history, a novel of the Persian Gulf war follows a young Army sergeant as he gradually perfects the emotional hollowness that allows him to live with all that he has seen and done in Iraq, as well as with the exquisite awareness of his own expendability. By Siri Hustvedt. A generous, engaged philosophical novel, set in the New York art world with its vanities and corruptions, and developing such propositions as the impress of one personality on another, the instability of sexual identity, the passage of the world through people's thoughts and lives.

Notes on a Scandal. A year-old teacher has an affair with a year-old boy in this darkly comic novel; a no-nonsense spinster colleague and narrator tries to account for this behavior in a book that focuses on the rift between perception and truth. By Elmore Leonard. All of Leonard's talents for hard-boiled fiction -- the sadism, the sex and especially the deadpan vernacular -- are on display in his second collection of short stories. The bookish Frederica Potter, protagonist of this fourth novel in a series that began 25 years ago, lives by interviewing many and various savants on television, allowing the entry of much arcane information into the novel and unleashing the author's satirical powers in every which direction.

By Meg Wolitzer. A light-footed, streamlined novel that rushes in to shed new heat on old themes like gender, writing and identity; Joan Castleman gives up her writing career to service that of her husband, Joe, a jerk of many flavors, and Wolitzer deploys a calm, seamless humor over the agony. By Boris Akunin. Wildly popular in Russia, Akunin's detective novels, set in czarist times, offer entertainment to readers fatigued with official truths. This one concerns Fandorin, a young officer of good family who catches the case of another such who seems to have died playing what they call ''American roulette'' with a revolver.

By Martin Amis. The awful people in Amis's current excursion include an actor and writer who sacrifices political correctness and becomes an antifeminist because of a brain injury; a vicious journalist who hates women and excuses rape, apparently because he is genitally underendowed; and a king of England, Henry IX, a good-natured fellow who suffers from his boring job and a shocking invasion of his daughter's privacy.

By David Lipsky. Lipsky, sent by Rolling Stone to write on West Point, followed it at length, finding young people at the academy about as hedonistic as others their age but also deeply committed to duty, honor, courage, discipline and, if necessary, dying for others. By Michael Sims. An endlessly amusing essay, in the spirit if not the manner of Browne and Burton, on the visible human body and all the lore attached to it since the beginning; by a journalist who got the idea while immobilized by surgery.

By Steven Brill. Brill sets out, John Hersey fashion, to comprehend America's reaction to the terror attack by visiting the viewpoints of those he interviews: officials, lawyers, politicians of course, but regular folk as well; he discerns a peculiar American tendency for special interests to work together in time of crisis. By Peter Ackroyd.

An ingenious essay in cultural anthropology that tries to define its subject through art and literature, without respect to the disciplines of history; for Ackroyd, ''Beowulf'' informs Milton, whether he read it or not, and the same English music is heard in Dowland and Britten, Constable and Blake. By Stephen Kinzer. A lively popular history, by a Times correspondent, of the coup that swept aside Iran's nationalist prime minister, Mohammed Mossadegh, who emerges as the book's enigmatic hero.

By Craig R. In examining the lives of master organists and organ builders, the author, an assistant managing editor at The Times, reveals what it's like to command an instrument the size of a minor European principality, and investigates the effect over time on the human ego. By Nuala O'Faolain.

Picking up where ''Are You Somebody'' left off, O'Faolain's second memoir finds her middle-aged and more settled but no less introspective as she bluntly examines her loveless childhood, a fragile new relationship with a divorced father and even the perils of memoirs. By Sally Denton. A gripping account of the ambush in southern Utah that claimed the lives of some members of a California-bound wagon train, and of the evidence pointing to its probable perpetrators. By Gail Collins. From Eleanor Dare Virginia's mother to Betty Friedan, a celebration by the editorial page editor of The Times; it's not so much about how women have shaped America as vice versa, especially when national adversity offered them the chance to expand their ambits and horizons.

This memoir by a celebrated chef recounts a culinary coming-of-age, from the hunger pangs of wartime France to the job as personal cook to Charles de Gaulle to the passage to America that would give rise to the author's unabashed partiality for Oreos, Jell-O and iceberg lettuce -- though not, dare we hope, combined. By Geoffrey Wolff. This biography by a fellow fiction writer who has himself endured rejections and editing goes far toward redeeming O'Hara from the the ranks of the impossible and placing him among the merely very difficult.

By Fay Weldon. The author of a couple of dozen novels in breezy prose pauses to tell her own story, in which an intrepid, no-nonsense woman survives paternal abandonment, earthquake, World War II and a long heritage of dotty ancestors, many of whom were compulsive scribblers of novels, stories and movie scripts. By Stefan Kanfer. A swift, judicious biography of the bold, beautiful clown who arrived in television land in with ''I Love Lucy,'' which ran for six years and is running on cable to this day. By Allison Glock. A slim, winning family memoir that stars Glock's late grandmother, a beautiful, vivacious West Virginian who had Hollywood written all over her, but didn't leave home until near the end of her life.

By Walter Isaacson. A full-length portrait of the many-minded, long-lived writer, diplomat, scientist and much, much more; crisply written in the intervals of Isaacson's day jobs as managing editor at Time and head of CNN. By Elaine Pagels. Pagels, whose ''Gnostic Gospels'' explored the discovery in of ancient Christian texts in Egypt, revisits the suppressed Gospels and their potential for shaping a different, more diverse Christianity. By George Howe Colt. For five generations of Brahmins, including the author, an eccentric summer home on Cape Cod remained a fixed point on the family compass; faced with the house's impending sale, Colt affectionately deconstructs the sacred place.

By Steve Hodel. Hodel, a retired Los Angeles cop, coolly makes the case that his deceased father -- a doctor, a dabbler in art and a man of the world -- was also the Black Dahlia killer, who stalked 's Los Angeles. By Mike Freeman. Freeman, a sports reporter for The Times, presents an assortment of profiles, off-the-field stories and eye-popping statistics -- all anchored by the author's passionate belief in the spirit and resilience of the game.

By Paul Fussell. Tapping published and unpublished memoirs as well as his own experience, Fussell, a veteran and an award-winning war historian, looks unflinchingly at the ill-fated G. By Peter Balakian. A sweeping, unremitting description of the killing of Armenians in the Ottoman Empire; American public opinion was galvanized and aid sent, but state interests militated against intervention.

By Bob Woodward. A remarkable day-by-day account from inside the White House of the campaign to oust the Taliban from Afghanistan and the internal argument over a pre-emptive strike against Iraq; Woodward's extraordinary access reveals a patchwork of ideas held together by a supremely confident president. By Fiona MacCarthy. This zillionth life of Byron finds that in his heart he was gay. But even if not, the author's analysis of his romantic history and his suicidal financial conduct help explain why people in the 's regarded him with both awe and horror.

By Linda Colley. A historian's intensive study of the ''captivity narratives'' that arose first from British exploration, then supremacy, in far distant lands; the captivity theme that dominated ''Gulliver's Travels'' arose again and again as British power spread itself thin and encountered occasional humiliation. By Robert K. Continuing his own ''Dreadnought'' of , this elegant writer pursues World War I at sea, most sharply focused on the Battle of Jutland in May , the closest approach history would ever provide to the forthright slugging match the dreadnought fleets were invented for; it was indecisive.

By George Crile. A behind-the-scenes chronicle, by a veteran television producer, of a congressman's provision of vast financial support to the anti-Soviet side in 's Afghanistan. By Benita Eisler. Seeking to untangle the paradoxical relationship between the shy, fragile pianist and the passionate sexual outlaw and novelist George Sand, Eisler's book underscores Chopin's illness and Sand's nursing skills, and sees a mutual attraction arising from their voracious appetite for work. By James Glanz and Eric Lipton. Glanz and Lipton, both Times reporters, tell a fascinating story from several sides, including the legal and political maneuvers that ushered in the World Trade Center and the engineering innovations that secured its completion.

By Arthur Gelb. A memoir of life at The New York Times by one who spent nearly 50 years there, rising from copy boy to managing editor; he has the power to evoke whole generations of change in the news business, reaching back to the glorious postwar years of manual typewriters, chain smokers and all-nighters. By Barbara Freese. An engrossing account of the comparatively cheap, usually dirty fuel that supported the Industrial Revolution, inspired the building of canals and railroads to move it and once made London and Pittsburgh famous for the quallity of their air.

By Colson Whitehead. An engaging, ambitious author takes his shot at the cityness of New York in this short, dense tour de force of shifting voices and points of view in a town that changes faster than its inhabitants can follow. By Amanda Hesser. A smart, charming look at a Manhattan romance through the lens of the author's chief preoccupation; Hesser's book, which originated as a column in The New York Times Magazine, addresses a provocative question: does eternal love require similar tastes? By Emily W. An accomplished study of the movie star and his era, and of how he altered forever the electric charges of both men and women in with ''The Sheik.

By Paul Theroux. The youngest curmudgeon grows older: Theroux turns 60 during this arduous trek and seems to resent it in a narrative suffused with ruin and oblivion; he remains a mighty myth deflator and a master at the humor of ill humor. By Charles Bowden. A grim exploration, seven years in the making, of crime on both sides of the Rio Grande at El Paso, organized around the murder of a man who may have been killed only because his brother was an officer of the Drug Enforcement Agency.

By Karl E. A veteran journalist and scholar revisits the playing fields of the ''great game,'' where Russia and Britain met and blocked each other in a tussle for influence that isn't over yet. By Peter Galison. Relativity once more, in a sparkling adventure with the French mathematician who reordered the world's time and the Swiss government patent clerk who realized that nothing could change the speed of light.

By Helen Sheehy. A smart, industrious, passionate biography of a great figure scarcely anyone now living ever saw, an international superstar in works by Sardou, Zola, Verga and Dumas fils, a sexual adventurer of some note and a willing helper to younger performers. By Niall Ferguson.

A young British historian argues that the empire did a lot of good and prevented a lot of evil, and invites the United States to reflect on the possibilities of its global reach. Written and illustrated by Richard Ellis. Ellis combines his narrative skills and his illustrator's hand to present an eloquent account of maritime tragedies wrought by human overuse and abuse, most of it offshore and out of sight.

By Susan Braudy. A powerful narrative that unspools a dreadful episode in lefter-than-thou political activism and revolutionary frustration: Kathy Boudin's part in the killing of two police officers and a Brink's guard in an armored car robbery in , after a decade spent underground. By Marina Warner. A sprightly, imaginative, playful, fabulously informed public meditation on change: mutating, hatching, splitting, doubling and carrying on.

By Greg Critser. Americans have increased their daily average intake by calories in two decades, Critser says. And the food industry has helped them by discovering ways to get people to eat more and feel good about it. By Calvin Trillin. By Maxine Hong Kingston. Compounding fiction with memory, as she did in ''The Woman Warrior,'' Kingston transmutes a manuscript she lost in a firestorm into part of this book, which presents hope as an obligation, set over against the despair so easily generated by the conduct of man and nature.

By Don Van Natta Jr. Van Natta, an investigative reporter for The Times, shows just how much presidential time has been spent ignoring affairs of state and chasing a little white ball around instead. By Peter Pringle.

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A fine survey of the battles over genetically altered food, with a colorful cast of academics, activists and corporate suits; Pringle also weighs in with his own admonitions to all sides. By John McPhee. A short personal encyclopedia of a wonderful annual fish, teaching shad history together with shad geography, shad behavior, shad statistics and shad appreciation, wrapped up in McPhee's usual intensely vivid prose.

By Jim Sterba. A charming memoir of Sterba's courtship and marriage to Frances FitzGerald and summer life in Maine, versatile enough to cover Sterba's experiences as an Asian correspondent for The Times and FitzGerald's own stand against lobster consumption ''out of context. By Leo Braudy. A sweeping examination of the intimate link between war and manhood as society has construed it since the Middle Ages; Braudy reads Al Qaeda as the mortal thrashings of a dying order. By Pascal Khoo Thwe.

A powerful portrait of his suffering nation, Myanmar, virtually sealed off from the rest of the world for most of the last 40 years, by a sensitive Burmese writer who was lucky enough to escape. By Fareed Zakaria. The editor of Newsweek International updates Tocqueville's critique of popular government, expanding its reach to the world; unlike Tocqueville, he does not see independent countervailing social institutions containing democracy's excesses. By Roger Angell. An anthology from 40 years of writing by the foremost interpreter of baseball of our time or our fathers' time he's now in his 80's ; it is the next best thing to being in the bleachers, except when it is better than being in the bleachers.

Bizot, a French ethnologist seized by Cambodian rebels in , recalls peculiar daily chat sessions over politics and philosophy with his chief captor, an obviously dangerous man who later ran one of the Khmer Rouge's ghastliest killing fields; after three months, Bizot was given an all-night farewell party and released. By Stephen W. A vivid, panoramic overview of the remarkable Union victory, by a veteran Civil War historian who finds many of the clues to its outcome in the sequence of events leading to battle. By Hilary Spurling. A biographer illuminates the brilliant, beautiful, industrious woman who knew everybody in literary London; the model for Julia in '','' she was Orwell's wife for the last 14 weeks of his life and his executor ever after.

By Hilary Mantel. A dark tale of extravagant consequences and loathed transformations by a distinguished novelist and critic whose life was permanently compromised by misdiagnosis and foolish medication in her youth. And her mother was awful too. Mantel is still furious, and well able to say why. By Adam Nicolson. A study of the committee of scholars and bishops that produced the English Bible, a work whose language soars far above any of the more accurate translations that have succeeded it. By Chip Brown. A searching biography, by a journalist, of Guy Waterman, a Republican suburbanite who became a born-again mountaineer in midlife, taking the White Mountains as his backyard; in February , at 67, he killed himself by going outdoors and lying down in the cold.

By Robert Hughes. A dazzling account of Goya's dark genius, informed by the author's own worse-than-death experience after a car crash; he sees Goya as able, more than any 20th-century artist, to ''make eloquent and morally urgent art out of human disaster,'' his pessimism confirmed by a mysterious illness and by the dismal history of Spain in the 18th century, much aggravated by foreigners in the Napoleonic era. By Daniel Okrent. Nobody loved it in , when it was still only an idea; now it's more of an ideal, an integrated cityscape that works.

Okrent retells some old stories very well, and displays a large cast of visionaries, artisans and schemers who were present at the creation. By Paul Krugman. Three years of blunt, efficient writing by a Times columnist and Princeton economics professor radicalized by the presidency of George W. By Christopher Benfey. A scholar and critic, naming the names and telling the stories, sorts out the maze of interpenetration that sprang up between Japan and the West after Perry's ships came in ; they got modern weapons and universities, we got an aesthetic revolution.

By Jason Goodwin. An English historian and travel writer confronts the dazzling proposition that America became rich because people believed in their money, which was made from paper and encouraged speedy spending. By Samuel Hynes. A memoir by the author of ''Flights of Passage'' of his Midwestern youth, in which he trained to be a man by being first a boy; it ends with the year-old Hynes saying farewell to his father and waiting for the train that will carry him to World War II.

By Anne Applebaum. Applebaum, a columnist for The Washington Post, is one of those who think Hitler and Stalin merit the same opprobrium. Using archival material Solzhenitsyn never saw, she supports his analysis of Stalin: Lenin written larger. By Norman Manea. Should a distinguished Romanian novelist return from exile in New York? Manea did, after receiving a push from his mother's ghost; a kaleidoscopic excursion into his recent and remote yesterdays results, and he is able to say Kaddish at her grave.

By Michael Korda. Korda's second memoir is driven by a love story, one woven through with amusing digressions that evoke the emotion connected not so much to the animals as to the people for whom the animals are everything. By Elizabeth Cohen. Was Cohen downhearted when her Alzheimered father was shipped to her? When her husband abandoned her and their baby? You bet! But from chaos, with help from the neighbors, she made this frank, funny, nonexploitative memoir. By Adam Bellow.


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In this thorough social history, Adam Bellow, a son of novelist Saul Bellow, defines nepotism more broadly, defending our less-than-perfect meritocracy as ''both natural and necessary. By Helen Stevenson. Stevenson's beguiling account of her personal and professional coming-of-age in an unnamed town in France's remote South, where she falls in love with a handsome dentist, manages to be both graceful and intensely colored. By John Keegan. How useful is espionage in war?

Keegan, a military historian, presents several cleareyed case studies, measuring the contribution that intelligence made to victory, with heroic legends often giving way to duller truths. By Thomas Powers. Essays originally book reviews by the biographer of Richard Helms, assessing intelligence history in the light of disclosures in the last decade and settling for now some ancient controversies about spies, conspiracies, moles and the like. By Eric Hobsbawm.

A distinguished historian who lived to be virtually the last Communist in Britain explains himself and his years as a believer. Though he was deceived, he was not a fool, and his book provides a marvelous account of how it felt to be an intelligent Communist in the age of Stalin. By Ian Buruma.

A concise, penetrating examination of the construction of an entirely new Japan after Perry's visit in ; in the headlong course of making itself modern, Japan borrowed many authoritarian, even fascist, habits of thought, many of them left in place after By Gerald Sorin.

A life of the eminent critic and socialist who died in , after a youth of rigid Trotskyism and a maturity that widened his perspectives but kept his intensity intact. By James Gleick. Color, detail and narrative flow are all nicely handled in this life of the discoverer of the optics of color, the laws of motion, universal gravitation and the calculus -- a man whose life has resisted scrutiny because he was reclusive by nature and evaded criticism by going incommunicado.

By Anthony Swofford. A hair-raising memoir that captures the hilarity, tedium and loneliness of the prewar deployment, followed by the appalling, astonishing experience of combat itself, in which terror and joy were one. By Evan Thomas. A fascinating life of the reckless adventurer whose mad-dog pugnacity during the Revolution won fights at sea that a sane man would have bent on all sail to avoid. By Jason Kersten. A spare, understated account of two inexperienced young men from around Boston who camped out in the New Mexico desert with three pints of water between them and got lost.

The Day the World Exploded: August 27, By Simon Winchester. A brilliantly rendered narrative of one of the biggest volcanic explosions in recorded history; Winchester, trained as a geologist, identifies the massive forces at work and tallies the 36, deaths, caused not by lava and noxious gases but by seismic sea waves.

By Diane Ravitch. Education is so squeezed by ''bias and sensitivity panels,'' Ravitch argues in this persuasive study, that what started as an admirable attempt to balance instruction has evolved into censorship. By Michael Shapiro. An engaging chronicle of the Dodgers' season, their next-to-last in Brooklyn, and a sympathetic defense of the team's owner, Walter O'Malley, whose unsuccessful quest for a new stadium ended with the team's departure for Los Angeles.

By Melissa Fay Greene. Greene's subject is a coal-mining accident that took place in October beneath Springhill, Nova Scotia. Nineteen men survived in pockets, to be rescued by fellow workers; Greene notes that television made the event the first mass-consumption disaster. By Gardner Botsford. Botsford's lively memoir of growing up as a New Yorker covers his experiences in World War II, but revolves mainly around his years at The New Yorker and the magazine's turbulent internal power struggles.

By Sherwin B. Nuland, a distinguished surgeon and medical writer, counts the cost of success in this memoir about becoming an assimilated second-generation American from a home dominated by his angry, altogether unassimilable Orthodox Jewish father. By John D'Emilio. A historian's life of the gay black man he perceives as the ''master strategist of social change,'' who organized the March on Washington for civil rights in and formulated procedures for Martin Luther King. By David A. A solid, absorbing history of Jamestown founded , the first English-speaking colony in North America to survive.

Its hero is John Smith, but not the same old John Smith; this one is a student of Machiavelli and soldier of fortune who was just what Jamestown needed, especially to deal with the Indians. By Madeleine Albright. A memoir unlike any other by a secretary of state, focusing as much on Albright's voyage of personal discovery -- and the tension between insecurity and ambition -- as on the history of foreign policy during the Clinton administration.

By Milt Bearden and James Risen. A trove of stories on once deeply classified subjects in the C.

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Bearden, a year C. The real story is mostly the story of James Murray, a schoolteacher who knew everything as so many Victorians did and who edited the great dictionary heroically from to others completed its 15, pages in By Stephen S. A lucid, thorough report on the developments in biology -- cloning, stem cells, ''longevity genes'' -- that may not bring about immortality but appear to carry hope of making life a little longer and a great deal nicer toward the end.

By Gail Sheehy.


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In Middletown, N. By Teresa Carpenter. A meticulous account of the six-month odyssey that began when some Macedonian Bulgarian revolutionaries kidnapped an American missionary spinster and a pregnant Bulgarian woman in By Garry Wills. How to gain nerve control. How to end awkwardness and timidity. How to utilize your sub- conscious mind. How to get ahead in your business or profession — and dozens of other vital topics. In your everyday life — in social life — and especially in business, you will find what these people say to be true.

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Ralston University Press, Dept. I Name.. Money refunded if dissatisfied I and book is returned within five days State Psychiatrists, p ogists, sociologists, penologists anti members of the Bench and Bar r ily into print. It is the criminal who is without heart. It is the f; are hard. We believe that the? Parole, prop lied, offers him that chance. Ra ; an individual get caught and tried the first time he offends. It is me first judicially proved offense. We do not know of e where all these conditions actually obtain.

We know that this situation exists in innumerable Ameri s, counties and States to-day. Awninged windows give out- ward token of the sheltered security and happy family life within. Hardly the setting for a series of events involving baffling mystery, intrigue, and blackest tragedy. And yet — well, here are the facts: Up to a little more than a year ago, Apartment 14 in Bar- inger Manor was oc- cupied by a lovely young widow, whose husband, a former newspaper man, had been killed in an automobile accident in March, No children had been bom to the union.

Young Mrs. Rogers was now twenty-nine — attractive, lovable, vivacious. Her dark auburn hair was bobbed, and worn in soft waves about an oval face. Her sparkling, dark- brown eyes were shaded with long, silken lashes. She dressed well, played a good game of bridge, enjoyed gayety, and so was an asset at social functions.

Pearl Heck, a girlhood friend, the visit created no comment. She planned, evidently, to return early in October, for before leav ing she made arrangements to resume a course in English, which she was taking, on Octo- ber 8th. She left on September 29th. Rogers, and chemical analysis made of what appeared to be blood stains, but clues and rumors led detectives everywhere in their feverish efforts to find the missing woman.

Miss Cheno- weth, the writer of this story, herself made a special trip to California, and back to New York on the mystery trail. Photograph above shows a police officer being taken from a manhole near Cherokee Park, Louisville, after search for the body of Mrs. Rogers October 7th, to be exact. That after- noon she entertained friends in her apart- ment, which is on the ground floor of the Manor, and appeared to be in excellent spirits. However, with the passing of that day, she disappeared as completely as though she had van- ished in smoke.

No one saw her leave the apartment, and she took nothing with her so far as could be learned. She had left no note, and telephoned no message of fare- well, to anyone. I immediately as- sembled what data was available. Left an orphan as a child, Ella Mc- Dowell had been reared in an orphans' home, and in child- hood was separated from her brothers and sisters.

Grow- ing into beautiful womanhood, she married young into one of Kentucky's foremost families. Colonel Ira Rogers, Hamilton's father, was, in fact, young Mrs. Rogers' closest friend and financial adviser. The circumstances which surrounded the affair were as baffling as any which could have been mustered together in fiction. He did not call again that day, he said. Ella McDowell Rogers, one of Ken- tucky's most beautiful women, strangely vanished from Baringer Manor, Louisville — and that night agonized screams were heard from the basement below her apartment! What happened? Was she murdered, and then burned in the furnace?

Rogers became of prime importance in the light of what happened later, I will relate his storv in detail. Here is his version of it as he gave it to newspaper reporters who Right The beautiful young widow, Mrs. Rogers, central figure in the baffling Baringer Manor mystery, whose strange disappearance aroused an army of detectives and private investigators to a nation-wide search for her, dead or alive.

Below Baringer Manor, Louisville. Note the arrow at the right which points to the comer window of Mrs. Was she abducted? All her personal belongings, in the way in which they were left in the apartment, indicated the possibility of this 19 20 True Detective Mysteries Above W. Clarke Otte, Commonwealth's Attorney, who conducted a personal investigation into Mrs.

Rogers' strange disappear ance. Right Photograph of reward circular broad- cast by the Louisville Police Department to police chiefs throughout the country in an effort to locate the missing widow mother lived. The passenger, the records show, checked out at 8 The driver said that he told him he was leav- ing on the train for Dawson Springs, and asked him to return and take him to the train ; but the taxi driver did not do so.

Harned did take the train, and the next morning he was at his post in the bank. The next day, also, Colonel Rogers called his daughter- in-law on the telephone, and received no answer. Lor- raine Smith and other friends were also unable to reach her on the telephone. Colonel Rogers, toward the end of the week, became alarmed, fearing that she might have been stricken ill and perhaps died suddenly in the apartment.

It was hardly probable, he thought, that she would have left the city again without getting in touch with him. He went to the apartment and enlisted the aid of several ladies in the house. Yon aor nyantnl to chn. Hamed was married, and lived in Dawson Springs. On his re- turn from the convention a week later, he stopped in Louisville again to visit his mother. That was Sunday, October 7th. He called at Mrs. During the afternoon Miss Lor- raine Smith, who had occupied the apartment with Mrs. Rogers until September 1st, also called, and stayed about an hour.

Lorraine Smith corroborated this later. Harned was there with Mrs. Rogers when she arrived and when she left, she said. Rogers had a cold supper. Rogers was called to the telephone. Rogers called a taxi for him. Then , suddenly , the lights went dark. They supposed a fuse had blown out, and he offered to remain with her and attempt to find the janitor; but she told him she would either retire or go to a picture show r for the rest of the evening. The taxi called at once, and Harned left his hostess in the dark. He left her in the dark, and in that darkness she vanished as suddenly, mysteriously and utterly as though the black imps of Satan themselves had whisked her away.

Records at the taxicab company showed me, later, that the call for the taxi came in at I found the driver, and he went to the apartment with me. He explained to me that he had gone in through the entrance at the side and knocked at the door. He did so and shortly a man, answering the description of Harned, came out alone and got in the taxi. There were small scraps of lettuce, cigarette ashes, and something which appeared to have been milk in the glasses.

It was not like his daughter-in-law', the Colonel said, to have left the apartment in such an untidy condition; however, he expressed the belief that she had left hurriedly and would be back in a few' days. Oil Wednesday of the same w f eek October 10th , Mrs. Madelaine Bell, an intimate friend of the missing woman, received a long-distance call for Mrs.

Rogers was not at my home and that I did not know where she The Sinister Mystery of Baringer Manor 21 Right Crowd of thrill-seekers at the lake in Cherokee Park, Louisville, watching investi- gators search for the body of Mrs. Insets show two views of Phillip Haynes, the janitor of Baringer Manor, who insisted he did not possess a key to Mrs.

Below Dia- gram of interior section of Baringer Manor showing lay- out of Mrs. Rogers was missing. There were several more such calls, and finally she told the operator she would talk to the party on the other end. It was Hal Harned. He was trying to get in touch with Mrs. Rogers from Dawson Springs. A week or so passed and Lor- raine Smith, who still retained a key to' the apartment, entered to get some of her clothing w hich she had left.

She transmitted this information to Colonel Rogers.

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The old gentleman dreaded the whirl of publicity which was bound to follow' if the police were notified; he could not seri- ously believe that Ella had come to any harm. She bore his name. His son had been the idol of his heart. He wanted to keep the whole affair from! It seemed impossible to think that anything Mrs. Rogers for more than a year and was perfectly familiar with every stitch of wearing apparel the young widow pos- sessed.

In going through the closets and chest drawers, she made the most important discoveries in the case. Not a single stitch of Mrs. Rogers' clothing — not even a hat or coat — was missing. The hand-bags, which she had used on her trip, were in the corner of the room, unpacked, just where she had placed them, probably, w hen she came in; her wrist watch was lying on the dresser cabinet. There, too, were the soiled dishes and the remains of the cold supper.

What did it all mean t Lorraine Smith w r as convinced, now', could be seriously wrong, so he attempted to make an in- vestigation himself. Even then, instructions were issued not to give the story to the press. Just what method of investigation detective headquarters undertook, I do not know. But I do know' that when 1 be- gan to work on the story on November 1 ith, six weeks after Ella Rogers disappeared and three w'eeks after it had been reported to the police department, I could not find a single person, with the exception of Colonel Rogers, w'ho had been interviewed by any member of the police department!

Then came the ad- mission that the matter had been under investigation by the police department since October 26th, when it was first reported. Naturally, after my assignment to the case, I went to see Phillip Haynes, the negro janitor who was in charge of the building the night Mrs.

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Rogers disappeared. I wanted to ascertain if he could recall anything w-hich transpired on the night of October 7th. He was then employed at another apartment house of its kind in the same section of the city', having left Baringer Manor on November 1st.

They were fiends, killers, brutal sluggers and cowardly slayers. And no men were ever hunted in San Francisco as were the Terror Bandits! They were vicious, inhuman brutes. Each shot they fired, they aimed at the face ; each man they slugged, they slugged in the face. One victim they shot in the cheek; a second in the mouth; a third in the jaw — and so it went. They'd go to a lot of trouble robbing one victim, then shoot down or slug the next, and speed on without even stopping to search him.

Our introduction to these fiends came on the evening of October 9th, , a Saturday. What a ghastly record! Biagini, a chipper by trade, lived in a small wooden shack near the water-front. When the two gunmen entered the hallway, barely visible because of bad lighting, they came upon Biagini at the. He was arranging a dinner date with neighbors. In a side room opening on to the hall, three men were sitting at a table drinking bootleg whisky. We later found that Biagini sold the stuff. The first thug, evidently the leader, strode up to Biagini. He was dressed in a dark suit and light cap, a figure about five feet eight, weighing some hundred and seventy.

His companion kept in the shadow of the hallway near the front door, covering Biagini with a gun, while the spokesman crowded past into the side room, where he robbed the three patrons. Where is it? With a flow of curses, the thug raised his gun and pressed the trigger. Biagini fell to the floor, blood spattering the room. Without searching for more money, the murderers immediately turned and rushed from the house. In the meantime the patrons had fled, and they took cover without giving an alarm. They discovered him on his bed, where he had crawled before fainting.

At the emergency hospital a short time later, twenty dollars more were found in Biagini's pockets. Had the bandits known exactly how much money Biagini had? Did they shoot him because they knew he was holding out on them? Or were they bluffing? We never did learn. Later that very same night an orgy of robberies brought us to our toes. Starting merely as routine stick-ups, the kind every police department periodically deals with, their frequency and the increasingly gory trail left by the bandits showed that blood-craving bends were at large. The theft was re- ported at 9.

A few minutes later Melville G. Mann, Jr. Next came a pool-room at Lombard Street, run by Constan- tino Guillen. After parking the car, both bandits entered, one pausing in front while the other wfent to the back. The firfct bandit tossed a quar- ter on the counter and ordered a pack of cigarettes. With a quick swing of the gun, the thug struck his victim in the face. Guillen staggered and he struck again, knocking Guillen to the floor.

He then pointed the gun down and pumped four bullets into the prostrate victim. The other thug meanwhile had lined the seven patrons against the wall, hands in air. His partner joined him and they drove away. During all the shooting, Mrs. Guillen with her two young children had been standing in a doorway which separated the pool-room from the living-quarters, bullets striking the wall within three feet of her head! He reported that the last three digits of the car number were Left How many bandits have killed just to see a man die? That is what the Terror Bandits did to Walter Swanson, young insurance agent by day, who drove a taxi by night to insure the best of care and an education for his eight - weeks-old son.

Here, Mrs.

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In the party were Mts. Emma Bird, her thirteen-year- old daughter, Emma, Mrs. One bandit jumped down, revolver threatening, while his companion leveled another gun from the car. After robbing Karaisky, they dragged Mrs. Bird into the car. A few blocks away the first brute flashed a light into her face — then switched it off with a coarse laugh. This is the car used by the killers in their first slaying orgy.

White circles on glass of right front door and on the wind-shield enclose the finger-prints photographed by the police. Upper right is William J. Quinn, the present Chief of Police. Detective Sergeant George McLoughlin is shown at bottom of page. Wav- ing a revolver, one thug jumped from the sedan, ordered Gonzales to throw up his hands, and searched him. The thug started to turn, gripped the barrel of the gun in his hand, and suddenly whirled back and struck up at Gonzales' face with the butt.

Stunned, Gonzales fell to the ground. Without another look the thug stepped in the machine, and away they went. Though the doors were closed and locked, Janitor James Powers was inside cleaning up. They ham- mered on the door demanding admittance, and called out some- thing about a package left in the back room. After an argu- ment with Powers, they were ad- mitted and walked directly to the back room.

As Powers entered to turn on the lights, one thug knocked him to the floor with his gun butt. Powers st niggled free and notified the police, identifying the car as the same one used in the preceding stick-ups, by the license, The killers, with- out attempting to rob him, with- out even getting out of the ma- chine, drove on down the street. Two blocks from the scene of the shooting, two men in slickers leaped out and motioned the car to halt. The bandit then shoved him through the door, slammed it in his face, and dashed to the car.

The same method was followed five minutes later with John Copren as he en- tered his home at Pine Street. Irish reported the car number as Next, approaching Powell and Clay Streets, the thugs spied a man carrying an umbrella. It was a damp, misty night. Driving up beside the pedestrian, Mario Pagano of the Funston Hotel, both thugs thrust revolvers out at him.

Pagano raised his hands in alarm, his umbrella going up with his hands. Possibly unnerved by the umbrella raising, probably through pure wantonness, the thugs each fired a shot at Pagano as he stood there frightened and helpless. Chief O'Brien had been visiting in the neigh- borhood and was leaving the apartment of a friend when he heard shots.

He and Neeley, starting to in- vestigate, saw a speeding machine approaching with- out lights. It electrified them into action. Their signal to the driver was countered by revolver shots. Drawing their own guns, both O'Brien and Nee- ley returned the fire. O'Brien and Neeley drove quickly to the scene of the first shooting to learn what it was all about.

Here they' found Pagano's lifeless body. Turning back, they tried to pick up the trail of the killers, but were unsuccess- ful. So ended the first night. But the worst was yet to come. AS soon as the first few reports came in, all available shot- gun squads, both from Headquarters and district police stations, were ordered out to comb the city. Patrolmen with- out cars were stationed at strategic points looking for a Buick sedan, license number But our efforts were fruitless.

The killers slipped through our lines. Another victim would do as well. The other was Walter Swanson, a young insurance agent by day, who drove a cab by night to insure the best of care and a future education for his eight- weeks-old son. Swanson got as his fares — his last fares in this life — these two young men.

At their direction he took them down near Market Street, then hack toward the Sixteenth Street via- duct. On the middle of the viaduct he was instructed to stop; the fares wanted a drink. They, invited him to drink with them. It was almost dark by this time — shortly after 6; the sun had set at As Swanson walked around the cab to meet them, he was confronted with a revolver and ordered to hand out his money.

One bandit searched him while the other took his cap and badges. Wantonly, brutally, without cause or provocation, this madman shot Sw'anson dow-n, shot him just under the left eye, shot him to death. At this unwarranted and savage murder the younger bandit, companion of the killer, started to run away, horrified. But the killer called him back and the accomplice was too frightened, too fearful for his own life, to disobey. The watch and empty bill-fold of Doctor Jacobs, one of the victims, were found on the floor of the car.

We immediately warned doctors and hospitals to report any man applying for first-aid treatment for a gunshot wound. Our only results were meager descriptions oi the bandits. Sunday night, extra patrols cruised about with shotguns, rifles, and riot guns, but the bandits kept undercover.

Monday, how'ever, wtts tragic — sickening. Those human juggernauts of destruction hurtled once more through the streets, slugging and slaying helpless victims, callously leaving the bodies dead and dying where they fell while they seeded on to continue their bloody orgy on other unlucky citizens. Sometime about that Monday afternoon two young men, one about twenty-five, the other about eighteen, stopped at the telephone station of the Yellow- Cab Company at Twenty-Ninth and Mission. It w-as a clever ruse, for while these Terror Bandits shot and slugged a trail of blood about the city, word spread that a Yellow- taxi driver had run amuck.

The stunt threw- us com- pletely off for a while. But to continue Five minutes later, driving east along Mariposa Street, the bandits spotted a man strolling along the south side of the street between Vermont and. San Bruno Avenues, enjoying his after-dinner cigar. Adlerman Bronx County, New York Citv As told to Isabel Stephen Below Here in this deserted room of death, more than two months after the crime, the sister of Andrew Devolo, the murdered man, found by mere chance an important clue to this dark mystery.

This clue was discovered under the scarf on the dresser shown to the left of the French doll and but a few feet from where Devolo had been found dead, lying sprawled across the bed The Murder in Apartment 65 " Please forgive me for what I am going to do Did Marlyse Maye, tempestuous French war bride shown at right , really shoot to death her lover, Andrew Devolo, in Apt 65?

Photo below What was tjie grim secret 1 back of this mysterious slay- ing, and who did it? The other half is his conviction and punishment. The writer of mystery fiction dangles through his pages a certain number of suspect-puppets, and challenges his readers to pick out the guilty one. Conviction and punishment are gxdished off in a three- line paragraph — unless the fictitious murderer has a particularly charming 27 28 True Detective Mysteries yi LOUD ringing of the telephone on the night desk in the Highbridge station-house gave the police their first inkling of the tragic "Murder in Apartment Lieutenant Phelan, in charge of the night desk, lifted the receiver, listened to an anonymous caller, promised to send a man to the address given, and hung up when the person who telephoned refused to give his name.

How the forces of the Law work to obtain this solid structure of evidence is ex- cellently exemplified in an atrocious murder that was committed recently in Apartment 65, Towns- end Avenue, the Bronx, New York Citv. By the time I had completed this sifting re- search, I felt myself completely saturated with all the details that went into the arguments for and against us. Smith, who had come on duty five minutes before. Within four minutes after leaving the station- house they entered the spa- cious foyer of But the excitement on the street was nothing compared with that in the hall of the sixth floor, which the two detec- tives reached by means of an automatic elevator.

With the cops back of her and a charge of 1st degree murder facing her, she sits in court and broodingly stares at her accusers with what thoughts pass- ing through her mind? The tenants are, for the most part, well-to-do, conserva- tive people of comfortable means and unimpeachable reputations. Ordinarily after midnight the houses are hs dark and silent as the homes on a suburban street.

The Murder in Apartment 65 29 them when they emerged from the lift into the corridor. None claimed that civic duty. One little man. Jabbing his spatulate thumb on the bell button, the detec- tive held it there until the door was opened by a white-faced, fully dressed woman. The large inner hall was dimly lighted. In the gloom he saw' the shadowy form of a man bending over a lounge on which lay a scantily clad girl. He introduced himself as a physician who had been summoned by a stranger.

Pushing through the crowd, swarming in the corridor, he raced dow nstairs and called up the main desk at Police Head- quarters. He was answered by Lieutenant Devoe, who told him that an unknown had al- ready notified him of the crime, and that the various offices and officials had been notified.

These included: the nearest hospital for an ambulance, the Homicide Bureau, the District Attorney of the Bronx, the medical examiner, the commanding police officer of the district, Captain Bruckman of the Bronx Detective Bureau, and the photograph bureau. They were only third-degree detectives, recently promoted from patrol duty, and on how they used tin- minutes before the arrival of their more experienced bnMher detectives would depend their future connection with the case. If they had made no appreciable progress in that hour, it would be taken out of their hands.

Before answering, Winter- halter took in with one sweep- ing glance the appearance and condition of the room. It was a good-sized bed- chamber, about eleven feet by sixteen, plainly but handsomely furnished. A shaded center globe provided illumination. As showm in the sketch repro- duced on page 30, a bed jutted out from the center of one wall, having on each side a chair.

Near this dresser was a pedestal with an ornamental doll on it. Between the two windows was a bureau. One window, Winterhalter noticed, opened on a fire-escape. Under one hand lay a pistol, and along- side the arm was a small w'ooden box. His head is al- most blown to pieces! Besides, that gun was planted there after he was dead. Look, Smith! The little and ring fingers were folded on the palm of the hand, grasping three long, black hairs; and on top of the little and ring fingers the stock of the revolver lay. The middle and index fingers lay alongside the barrel, and the thumb was over the end of the barrel.

He was a good boy. Why he do that? He was too sweet. But -was she telling the truth? The partners then proceeded to make a thorough exami- nation of the apartment together. They found the windows and the dumb-waiter locked. The door leading into the hall show'ed no marks of having been jimmied. The evidence collected as a result of their search included the following: Two empty shells, found on the bed, one bullet up against the wall and another in the ample clothes closet in the bed- room.

In the the box near his arm were cartridges of the same caliber as the shells. Two identification cards, one of which requested the finder to notify Paul M. A partly filled -out ap- plication for a permit to carry a gun, found in a bureau drawer; also a scrap of a letter, evi- dently written by the woman's husband, which said, in part: "Don't worry. Tony will take good care of you. Kennard, the assistant county medical examiner. The ambulance surgeon had arrived w r hiJe the two young detectives were searching the apartment, and was en- Left Joseph Wexler, partner of Andrew Devolo, who throughout the entire case, scoffed at the theory that his friend, Andy, had committed suicide, and who frankly came out and stated where he was convinced the guilt lay Below Official diagram of the murder flat — Apt.

By this diagram the reader may follow the details of the crime as described in the story i N the kitchen was an unpacked hamper of kitchen utensils; stand- ing in a corner and on the table were two washed cups and saucers. Bags of oranges and apples, unopened, were on top of the ice-box. By the time the various officials arrived, the pair had finished their examination and had done a mighty good job at it. They had over- looked one clue, but then, so did the experienced men from the Homicide Bureau. It was an im- portant clue, on the bureau in the murder room, almost as impor- tant as the weapon itself; and it remained there The Murder in Apartment 65 31 gaged in caring for Mrs.

Maye wnen the new arrivals entered the hall. Maye away to Fordh;ti 1 Hospital. Deputy Inspector Duane com- mended Winterhalter and Smith for the thoroughness and celerity with w hich they had searched the apartment. Referring to the application for a permit to carry a gun, Detective Szermer said that Mrs.

Maye had called at the station-house in reference to obtaining a permit, but the form on which it was printed had been an old one and not acceptable. Schatzberg, Mrs. All declared that they had not. After another thorough search was made of the Maye apartment, a uniformed officer was left in sole charge, with orders to notify the authorities if anyone sought admittance. Nothing was to be disturbed in the apartment. The charge, I believe, was robbery and criminal assault.

Maliel I. She was an alert, intelligent young woman, and her statement was concise and comprehensive. A minute or two after entering her apartment she had been startled by screams issuing from the outer hall.


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Cautiously, she had opened the door and peered out. Rushing to her bedroom window, Mrs. Ralph Schatzberg responded, as did a physician, who had lieen sum- moned by some- one he believed to lie a neighbor. Together, the two men went up in the elevator and found Mrs. She alternated between states of coma and wild delirium, exhibiting the greatest terror of anyone who approached her, scratching at- tendants and screaming for help. It took four or five nurses to hold her w hile the doctor dressed the gunshot wound that had torn through her lung and liarely missed her heart.

The impression made by her inco- herent mutterings and piercing shrieks was that Andy had shot her and killed himself. And the autopsy showed that Andy could not have shot himself, for Doctor Kennard, who has performed more than 3, autopsies, reported finding seven gun- shot wounds, any one of four of which would have caused instantaneous death. Who is that dark stranger who flees like a sinister shadow from the ghastly scene?

Is he the ijihu- man wretch who committed the deed? By Donald L.

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Mabel Mayer was a girl of open, innocent character and spotless reputation yet some evil fiend trailed her path that fateful night of her death. Discussing plans for the day and laughing after a hearty breakfast, C. Wilcox and L. Hall, both of Olive Street, came at that morning to work on a garage they were building at the rear of a vacant house at Kighty- Sixth Avenue.

Unaware of the gruesome sight that was to greet them, they turned the rear corner of the empty house and almost 32 stepped upon the battered and torn, blood -drenched body of Mabel Mayer, fifteen-year-old schoolgirl. Ambushed as she made her way up the dark street, within two blocks of her home at Eighty-Sixth Avenue, Mabel Mayer a few hours before had walked into a torture trap ex- ceeding in brutality anything in Oakland criminal annals.

Their description of the terrible crime, coming in throbbing words over the telephone to the Central police station desk sergeant, brought quick action on the part of the police. Led by Captain B. Wallman, police rushed to the scene of the murder and took charge of the situation. One glance at the mangled body was enough to convince Wallman that the Chief should personally direct the case. Over the phone he gave a graphic description of the tortured body.

He was left in direct charge of the investigation while Left William Mayer, the 18 -year-old brother of Mabel Mayer, who was to have met his sister at the train which she missed plans for an immediate drag-net were hastily made at Headquarters to capture the fiend who had committed the crime. A watch was set at every railroad station and automobile route leading out of town. Like the other Cenobites, he lost all memory of his human identity following the transformation and serves the deity Leviathan by abducting others who solve the Lament Configuration and torture them in a labyrinth realm called Hell.

In Hellraiser , Kirsty Cotton unintentionally summons Pinhead and the Cenobites, but is spared on condition that she lead the Cenobites to her uncle, Frank Cotton , who had escaped them. After reclaiming Frank, the Cenobites turn on Kirsty, who manages to banish them back to their realm. Pinhead briefly leads his fellow Cenobites in a battle with the newly created Channard cenobite, but is seemingly killed after being reverted to his human form. In Hellraiser III: Hell on Earth , it is learned that Spencer's reversion to his human form caused the negative attributes of himself to manifest into an independent entity, which takes the form of Pinhead.

Without human influence, Pinhead is unbound by the laws of the Cenobite Hell as he manifests on Earth after being trapped in the form of an intricately carved pillar with writhing figures and distorted faces etched into the surface. Using the nightclub owner J.

Monroe, Pinhead feeds on enough humans to gain his freedom as he engages in an indiscriminate killing spree on Earth, transforming some of his victims into a Cenobite army. Spencer manages to escape Limbo and stops Pinhead by re-merging with him before the restored entity is banished back to the Cenobites' reality. In Hellraiser: Bloodline Pinhead allies himself with the demon princess Angelique , in order to force John Merchant a descendant of the inventor who built the Lament Configuration to create an unsealable gateway to Hell.

The future segments of the film reveal that Pinhead is finally destroyed in the year by Dr. Paul Merchant, another descendant, who uses a space station to complete the "Elysium Configuration", capable of closing Hell's gateway for good. Pinhead and other Cenobites are trapped inside it and are destroyed along with the box.

In Hellraiser: Inferno Pinhead appears primarily under the guise of police psychiatrist Doctor Paul Gregory, assuming his true form near the end to inform protagonist Detective Joseph Thorne that he has been in Hell for the duration of the film, and is being punished for his corruption and various misdeeds in life.

In Hellraiser: Hellseeker Pinhead serves a role similar to the one he fulfilled in Inferno. Kirsty is now married to Trevor, a corrupt insurance agent who plots to have her killed in a murder-for-money scheme, using Lemarchand's box to "cleanly" kill Kirsty without the evidence pointing to himself, his mistress, or his conspirators. Pinhead appears at the end of the film to inform Trevor, who had amnesia throughout the film, that he has actually been dead and trapped by the Cenobites for some time; Pinhead had appeared to Kirsty, pleased at the prospect of a "reunion," but Kirsty ultimately struck a deal with him: she would be left alone in exchange for killing Trevor and his conspirators, thus giving the Cenobites the victims' souls.

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In Hellraiser: Deader Pinhead appears several times to reporter Amy Klein after she tinkers with the box, a central relic of a cult she is investigating. After Amy is captured by the group's leader, Winter, she learns he is a descendant of puzzle creator Phillip Lemarchand, and believes that it is his birthright to control the box and, thereby, the Cenobites. However, neither he nor any of his followers have been able to open it. Amy successfully opens the box, but rather than submit to Winter, Pinhead instead kills him and his followers for attempting to control it.

Subject to being taken to the Cenobite realm for having opened the box, Amy instead chooses to commit suicide. Pinhead appears as a fictional character in Hellraiser: Hellworld Although the Pinhead seems to attack the guests at a Hellraiser-themed party, he is revealed to be the hallucination of five guests who have been drugged and buried alive by the party's host, who blames them for not preventing his Hellworld-addicted son's suicide.

In the film's climax, the host discovers that the Hellraiser mythos is based on fact, and that his son had come into possession of a real Lemarchand box. Opening it causes the real Pinhead to appear, praising the boy's ingenuity before ordering a pair of Cenobites to kill the host. Hellraiser: Revelations returns to the portrayal of Pinhead in the original Hellraiser. The film was produced as the cinematic equivalent of an ashcan copy to preserve Dimension Films' rights to the franchise. Due to the lack of preparation time, Bradley refused the part of Pinhead, and the role went to Stephan Smith Collins.

The film was almost universally panned, and one review criticized the new 'pseudo-Pinhead', saying "Pinhead doesn't appear to be doing much with his free time but stroking bloodied chains and making sinister faces It's a farcical twist on the Austin Powers Mini-Me. Hellraiser: Judgement : TBA. Unlike the film version, Pinhead is not the leader of the Cenobites in the Novella, and instead he and the other Cenobites follow the Lead Cenobite.

Every inch of its head had been tattooed with an intricate grid, and at every intersection of horizontal and vertical axes a jeweled pin driven through to the bone. Its tongue was similarly decorated. Perhaps, at one time, the nails had gleamed, but the years had tarnished them As for the rest of his appearance, it was much as it had been depicted in the etchings and woodcuts of demonic listings for millennia: the black vestments, the hem of which brushed the floor; the patches of skinned flesh exposing blood-beaded muscle; and the skin tightly interwoven with the fabric of his robes He looked like a creature that had lived too long, his eyes set in bruised pools, his gait steady but slow.

For Pinhead specifically, Barker drew inspiration from African fetish sculptures. Initially, Barker intended Pinhead to have a navel piercing implying that the character had genital piercings. Barker's original "Hell Priest" sketches for Pinhead were eventually adapted into an officially licensed mask by Composite Effects, to be released in limited quantity to the public on 24 March This was done in celebration of the 30th Anniversary of Hellraiser.

After securing funding in early , Barker and his producer Chris Figg assembled a team to design the cenobites. Among the team was Bob Keen and Geoff Portass at Image Animation and Jane Wildgoose, a costume designer who was requested to make a series of costumes for 4—5 'super-butchers' while refining the scarification designs with Image Animation.

In terms of lighting, Pinhead was designed so that shadows would swirl round his head. By July , the shooting script positively identified the single pinheaded Cenobite from the earlier draft as clearly the leader. In Hellraiser: Judgment they updated Pinhead's appearance from the previous films. As writer-director Gary J. Tunnicliffe explained, "This is a very no nonsense Pinhead. No glib one-liners, he's a little leaner and a little meaner. We especially tried to incorporate this into the make-up and costume; the cuts are deeper, the pins a little longer, his eyes are completely black and wardrobe is a little sleeker and more visceral.

Someone on set described him as the 'bad ass' version of Pinhead. Sign In Don't have an account? Start a Wiki. Demons to some, angels to others. Contents [ show ].