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Funny read for those who have an interrest in dnp..
**********
From: Richard Evans Lee
Subject: DNP in 1935
DNP made its way into popular fiction at least once during the
Depression. The following is from the 'weird menace' pulp Operator 5.
Pulps were very cheaply printed magazines that sold for a dime. Some
well-know protaganists include The Shadow and Doc Savage. In theme and
manner they were the direct precursors of comic books.
"Blood Reign of the Dictator"
Operator 5, May 1935
Slumped in a deep-cushioned chair at the
other end of the room, was a man. Blankets were
wrapped around him, so that only his face lay
exposed to the shaded light— and it was a face
parched by a devastating fever. The cheeks were
sunken; the skin was horribly blotched; the eyes
glittered with an unnatural brightness in their
withered sockets. In that chair sat a shrunken
mummy of a man tortured by a frightful sickness.
[ . . . ]
Huntley Walsh had, in the past, seen William
Stockard several times. Stockard had been a
great newspaper publisher then, his dynamic
energy and unflagging mind controlling the destiny
of a string of the most powerful dailies in the state
of New Cornwall. Walsh remembered a man of
powerful frame, of strapping strength, of admirable
personal presence and great charm. Yet the
William Stockard he faced now was a ghastly
shadow of that other man.
Stockard was trembling within the
enwrapping blankets; his haunted eyes were
shining with fevered brilliance. "Fearless— I!
Once, perhaps— once, when I was a man! But not
now. God, you don't realize what a chance you
are taking! The secret police are everywhere—
spying on everyone— Governor Young's Cheka!
My own servant may be one of them. The doctor
who is upstairs now may be one of them. I am
afraid of them all— and you call me fearless!"
Jimmy Christopher's eyes narrowed. "The
plague has done this to you?"
"Yes— this horrible disease! It has wasted
me away— this fever. It's a terrible fever. I've had
it night and day for weeks, a fever that's burning
me up. My doctor has established a laboratory
upstairs to help me. I'm taking the medicines
prescribed by him and the Chief of Public
Health— the only medicine that can stop it and yet
it doesn't stop! It's consuming me alive!"
Operator 5 reached to a taboret beside the
chair, lifted a bottle containing a yellow fluid. The
bottle bore no label, and the liquid was odorless,
shining like yellow amber in the light.
"That's the medicine— the only one that can
help me— yet which doesn't help. The Chief of
Public Health has made exhaustive researches;
he's found that this alone helps sufferers of the
plague. No one knows what the disease is, but
this medicine has helped others. And every day I
hope for improvement yet every day my condition
becomes worse!"
Operator 5 said briskly: "With your
permission, Mr. Stockard . . ."
Stockard gazed in fascination as Operator 5
placed a few drops of the solution on his tongue.
It had a bitter taste.
From his pocket he removed a small leather
case containing long, thin vials, half of them
empty, the others filled with labeled chemical
reagents. He poured some of the medicine into
At the addition of the first, the yellow turned
to a blood red. The second faded all color from it.
The third turned the colorless liquid black as ink.
Briskly, then, Operator 5 corked the specimen,
and closed his case.
[ . . . ]
"Your medicine will never cure this case of
so-called plague, Doctor," Operator 5 declared
coldly. "Quite the contrary. Your prescription is
causing your patient's extremely high fever."
"What! You know nothing about it!" The
doctor's eyes blazed; his face crimsoned with
fury. "If you interfere again, I'll order you sent to a
State institution — and see that you're kept there!"
"You may not know that your medicine is
actually the cause of Mr. Stockard's sickness. But
I think you do, Doctor," Operator 5 insisted
levelly. "You decided to double his dose ... why?
To hasten his death?"
"I am trying to save this man's life! You're
talking like a madman— "
Operator 5's sibilant command broke into the
physician's words: "Listen! If you attempt to give
Mr. Stockard another dose of that stuff, I'll keep
you from doing it— forcibly— and you can make all
the threats you please. The fact is your medicine
is a solution of alpha-dinitrophenol."
Dr. Hurwit sputtered: "Impossible!"
"Not impossible, Doctor. True," Jimmy
Christopher took the bottle into his hand. If you
will allow me to come into your laboratory I'll
repeat my analysis on a larger scale and prove it
beyond all doubt. You know, do you not, Doctor,
that alpha-dinitrophenol is a coaltar product akin
to picric acid, that a dose of it seven
one-millionths the weight of the patient steps up
the rate of metabolism as high as fifty percent?
The result is a devastating fever because the
body is running at too high a speed— really
burning itself up. Repeated doses of the stuff
have literally aged Mr. Stockard before his time,
exhausted him with fever— and further doses will
kill him!"
Hurwit thundered an exclamation of rage.
"Young man, you have made a serious charge
against me! I intend to see the proof you offer. I
know the tests for dinitrophenol— I have
campaigned against fat-reducing mixtures which
contain it. Come to my laboratory at once, sir,
with that medicine, and I'll prove to you that you
lie!"
(Picked up the Adobe acrobat edition of the pulp from
www.vintagelibrary.com.)
Richard Evans Lee, Books Do Furnish A Room
http://http://www.abebooks.com/home/bdfar/
Used Books, CDs, Records, Tapes & Comics
1809 W Markham Av, Durham, NC 27705-4806
(919) 286-1076
***********
Hope some of you like it, I thought it was funny stuff.
MICHLDAV.
**********
From: Richard Evans Lee
Subject: DNP in 1935
DNP made its way into popular fiction at least once during the
Depression. The following is from the 'weird menace' pulp Operator 5.
Pulps were very cheaply printed magazines that sold for a dime. Some
well-know protaganists include The Shadow and Doc Savage. In theme and
manner they were the direct precursors of comic books.
"Blood Reign of the Dictator"
Operator 5, May 1935
Slumped in a deep-cushioned chair at the
other end of the room, was a man. Blankets were
wrapped around him, so that only his face lay
exposed to the shaded light— and it was a face
parched by a devastating fever. The cheeks were
sunken; the skin was horribly blotched; the eyes
glittered with an unnatural brightness in their
withered sockets. In that chair sat a shrunken
mummy of a man tortured by a frightful sickness.
[ . . . ]
Huntley Walsh had, in the past, seen William
Stockard several times. Stockard had been a
great newspaper publisher then, his dynamic
energy and unflagging mind controlling the destiny
of a string of the most powerful dailies in the state
of New Cornwall. Walsh remembered a man of
powerful frame, of strapping strength, of admirable
personal presence and great charm. Yet the
William Stockard he faced now was a ghastly
shadow of that other man.
Stockard was trembling within the
enwrapping blankets; his haunted eyes were
shining with fevered brilliance. "Fearless— I!
Once, perhaps— once, when I was a man! But not
now. God, you don't realize what a chance you
are taking! The secret police are everywhere—
spying on everyone— Governor Young's Cheka!
My own servant may be one of them. The doctor
who is upstairs now may be one of them. I am
afraid of them all— and you call me fearless!"
Jimmy Christopher's eyes narrowed. "The
plague has done this to you?"
"Yes— this horrible disease! It has wasted
me away— this fever. It's a terrible fever. I've had
it night and day for weeks, a fever that's burning
me up. My doctor has established a laboratory
upstairs to help me. I'm taking the medicines
prescribed by him and the Chief of Public
Health— the only medicine that can stop it and yet
it doesn't stop! It's consuming me alive!"
Operator 5 reached to a taboret beside the
chair, lifted a bottle containing a yellow fluid. The
bottle bore no label, and the liquid was odorless,
shining like yellow amber in the light.
"That's the medicine— the only one that can
help me— yet which doesn't help. The Chief of
Public Health has made exhaustive researches;
he's found that this alone helps sufferers of the
plague. No one knows what the disease is, but
this medicine has helped others. And every day I
hope for improvement yet every day my condition
becomes worse!"
Operator 5 said briskly: "With your
permission, Mr. Stockard . . ."
Stockard gazed in fascination as Operator 5
placed a few drops of the solution on his tongue.
It had a bitter taste.
From his pocket he removed a small leather
case containing long, thin vials, half of them
empty, the others filled with labeled chemical
reagents. He poured some of the medicine into
At the addition of the first, the yellow turned
to a blood red. The second faded all color from it.
The third turned the colorless liquid black as ink.
Briskly, then, Operator 5 corked the specimen,
and closed his case.
[ . . . ]
"Your medicine will never cure this case of
so-called plague, Doctor," Operator 5 declared
coldly. "Quite the contrary. Your prescription is
causing your patient's extremely high fever."
"What! You know nothing about it!" The
doctor's eyes blazed; his face crimsoned with
fury. "If you interfere again, I'll order you sent to a
State institution — and see that you're kept there!"
"You may not know that your medicine is
actually the cause of Mr. Stockard's sickness. But
I think you do, Doctor," Operator 5 insisted
levelly. "You decided to double his dose ... why?
To hasten his death?"
"I am trying to save this man's life! You're
talking like a madman— "
Operator 5's sibilant command broke into the
physician's words: "Listen! If you attempt to give
Mr. Stockard another dose of that stuff, I'll keep
you from doing it— forcibly— and you can make all
the threats you please. The fact is your medicine
is a solution of alpha-dinitrophenol."
Dr. Hurwit sputtered: "Impossible!"
"Not impossible, Doctor. True," Jimmy
Christopher took the bottle into his hand. If you
will allow me to come into your laboratory I'll
repeat my analysis on a larger scale and prove it
beyond all doubt. You know, do you not, Doctor,
that alpha-dinitrophenol is a coaltar product akin
to picric acid, that a dose of it seven
one-millionths the weight of the patient steps up
the rate of metabolism as high as fifty percent?
The result is a devastating fever because the
body is running at too high a speed— really
burning itself up. Repeated doses of the stuff
have literally aged Mr. Stockard before his time,
exhausted him with fever— and further doses will
kill him!"
Hurwit thundered an exclamation of rage.
"Young man, you have made a serious charge
against me! I intend to see the proof you offer. I
know the tests for dinitrophenol— I have
campaigned against fat-reducing mixtures which
contain it. Come to my laboratory at once, sir,
with that medicine, and I'll prove to you that you
lie!"
(Picked up the Adobe acrobat edition of the pulp from
www.vintagelibrary.com.)
Richard Evans Lee, Books Do Furnish A Room
http://http://www.abebooks.com/home/bdfar/
Used Books, CDs, Records, Tapes & Comics
1809 W Markham Av, Durham, NC 27705-4806
(919) 286-1076
***********
Hope some of you like it, I thought it was funny stuff.
MICHLDAV.
