Introducing . . . THE GUARDIANS!!!

"The Guardians?" Negley Prescott echoed eagerly. "And what exactly are the Guardians?"

"Exactly what they are," Kane smiled, "it would be impossible to define. We might best be called an organization devoted to the combating of evil wherever it may be found."

"Oh. A sort of church." Prescott was disappointed. There would be no spicy copy out of this except perhaps for a rehash of the girl's striptease.

"No. Not a sort of church. The purpose of a church is basically to teach a moral and religious code. Our purpose is more practical. It is to combat the actual physical manifestations of Evil itself, to counter the activities of the practitioners of the Left Hand Path."

The Guardians is a series by Peter Saxon--which, if I understand correctly, is a house name used by several writers. I've no idea yet who the "real" authors are for each installment, but I'll try to find out as I review them one by one. There are four novels in a numbered series, and two that are unnumbered. As the excerpted dialogue above suggests, these center around a team dedicated to fighting supernatural evil.

And the evil is truly supernatural. I'm on the fourth novel now, and the central threat has yet to resolve into a purely natural hoax or anything of the sort. We only hear about the inevitable false alarms in dialogue and narrative asides.

The Guardians are headquartered in "swinging London with its miniskirts, sports cars, exhaust fumes and discotheques." The building they occupy, however, is tucked back along some quaint (but still dark) alley called "Start Passage." Fittingly enough, this building has many earmarks of an "edifice" (as that term is defined in the Encyclopedia of Fantasy). It is haunted, often deceptive, and frighteningly mysterious even to some of the Guardians themselves.

The Guardians are:

GIDEON CROSS: The founder, the oldest member, and the most powerful in his occult talents. He is the only member who actually lives in their building, in top-floor chambers that are strangely insulated from the bustle of modern London just beyond the windows. He almost never joins the Guardians in the field, and sometimes even declines to volunteer knowledge that might prove valuable on a case. But when circumstances force his hand and leave him no choice but to intervene . . . whoa! I don't think any of the others actually like him, and most feel a vague distrust of him--an uneasy uncertainty about his motives.

STEVEN KANE: The leader. Picture a man who would look like a "Steven Kane," and you've got him: dark hair and eyes, athletic and fit, a bit taller than average, refined but with a touch of ruggedness. He's generic enough to invite easy identification from a mostly-male popular audience, but individualized enough to sustain interest throughout the series. Formerly a professor of anthropology, he has modest psychic abilities, and a wide-ranging knowledge of the occult.

FATHER JOHN DYBALL: The obligatory priest, "Anglo-Catholic." Of course he handles the exorcisms, and his prayers are as spectacularly, ridiculously efficacious as they must be in a high-octane horror-action series like this. His stint as the chaplain for a commando regiment gave him the training and toughness to pull his own weight when the rough stuff starts.

ANNE ASHBY: Dark lady, femme fatale. I think that's her on the cover of Dark Ways to Death. At least that's how I like to picture her! Of the active members (that is, not counting Cross), she's the most formidable psychic, and her jewelry consists of artifacts that enhance her natural powers. Naturally, she also kicks ass with martial arts. She has some weird connection with Cross that disturbs the other Guardians. A sexual relationship is hinted at, though she professes a distaste for him. He and she may even have known each other in previous incarnations--and he may have burned her as a witch in one of those!

LIONEL MARKS: This rotund gentleman rounds out the group with his superb talent for mundane investigation. He can get the facts on anyone, tail them anywhere, work his way into their circle, and figure out in his own world-weary manner what makes them tick. He's the most hardheaded and "normal" of the bunch, with no psychic abilities whatsoever. Still, he's one of the best at what he does, and the Guardians couldn't do without him.

THROUGH THE DARK CURTAIN by Peter Saxon (Lancer 1968)

So I've read all six Guardians novels, and it's the first full series I've considered for this blog that I would give top recommendation, start to finish, without caveat or qualification. For one thing, it's the first series that's a) truly set in the Groovy Age, with generous doses of '60s/'70s ambience, and b) truly and unambiguously supernatural horror. The Guardians are based in an imaginary London where Antonioni's Blow Up intersects Hammer's Satanic Rites of Dracula. The world they explore and defend blossoms outward from that extraordinary crossroads. Beyond that, the series builds interesting contexts around familiar, favorite horrors to liven (or unliven) them up. And I enjoy the same fun "team" feel I used to get (back in the day, I mean) from my favorite team comics like X-Men and Avengers.

Within this broad overall excellence, of course, some books are stronger than others. As a Guardians novel, Through the Dark Curtain is fair to middling. A woman driven mad by fear draws a team of Guardians to the Suffolk countryside. There, they are overpowered and pressed into service by an ancient native cult which called upon the future, centuries ago, to help drive out the Romans. When even the future turns out not to be enough to aid the past, dark sorceries summon vile demonic allies from other planes of reality. That's when things get really ugly for the Guardians, in both their past and present incarnations.

As I suggested, this is okay for a Guardians novel, which means it's a standout example of the Groovy Age of Horror. The series gets much, much better, but this novel is definitely the first step in that right direction. It stands on its own merits over against most other stuff I've previously reviewed.

CURSE OF RATHLAW by Peter Saxon (Prestige/Magnum 1968)

Near the Black Loch, a loathesome hermit tries to rape one of the girls from the castle. His grim business is interrupted, and he's captured. The Laird has him whipped and banished, but before he goes, the hermit pronounces a terrible curse that promises the extinction of the clan. When the dark omens of fulfillment begin to come true, the terrified Laird speeds down to modern London, to the Guardians.

If this novel isn't my favorite of the series, it's close enough. Oh man, this one has everything: psychic brothers, a dwarf, a creepy child, a supernatural horse that emerges from the Loch, hypnosis, seances, martial arts, a Satanic cult, and bloody murder!

The good guys and bad guys tear all over Scotland--from the Black Loch to Glasgow to Aberdeen to Dunoon and back again. Somehow, the slapdash brushstrokes paint a quick and vivid picture of each setting; I had the impression of watching them go by from the kaleidoscopic views of the Land Rovers, MGs, and Jags racing through the land- and cityscapes.

One of the team is turned against the others, and one is almost killed as a result of the betrayal. Anne Ashby is captured and stripped, with the intention of making her the unwilling altar for a Sabbat!

If you want to sample the Guardians, this is where I'd recommend you start.

(Cover by Jeff Jones.)

THE KILLING BONE by Peter Saxon (Berkley Medallion 1968)

On a routine hospital visit, Father Dyball chances to see a patient who is clearly (to him, anyway) suffering supernatural torment. Unfortunately for the good Father, when he looks into the patient's eyes, the tormentor takes notice of him, and senses the threat he poses. From the heart of the Australian outback, a dreadful campaign of sorcerous attack is launched. The Guardians don't even know what hits them at first. When they learn the seriousness of the threat they face, even their enigmatic founder, Gideon Cross, realizes he can't sit this one out. As Dyball is magically compelled to Australia and drawn into ambush, Cross sends his own astral form to do battle with the aboriginal "Clever Man."

This is a solid entry in the series. It does a great job of creating a sense of the battle brought home to the Guardians, and convincingly depicts them reeling from a pre-emptive first strike. The horror inflicted on the hospital patient and others is truly horrific: flesh-and-bone voodoo dolls buried in those giant Australian ant mounds!!

I don't care much for Father Dyball, and liked this novel the less for its focus on him. Also, Anne Ashby has scant involvement in the case, and that's another disappointment.

On the plus side, Cross's astral combat with the witch doctor is very well done. It's the only time Cross really gets involved, and it's worth seeing for that alone. Also, Dyball sets aside his collar to go undercover among London's Australian community, and one party just oozes swinging, groovy atmosphere (though the effect is marred somewhat by the disapproving tone of the priest's point of view). Finally, in keeping with the seventies' disdain for unambiguously happy endings, the novel concludes on a bittersweet note that leaves some of the Guardians very uneasy about their victory this time.

(Cover by Jeff Jones.)

DARK WAYS TO DEATH by Peter Saxon (Berkley Medallion 1968)

Oh my, that is a nice image of Anne Ashby on the cover (courtesy of Jeff Jones)! The cat draped around her lovely shoulders is Bubastis, named after the cat-headed goddess of ancient Egyptian mythology, and one of the last of the species of "true cat" from ancient Egypt. Technically, Bubastis (who prefers fine sherry in her saucer, by the way) belongs to Kane, but has formed a special bond with Anne.

This is far from the strongest novel in the series. It's certainly the most uneven. It begins promisingly enough, with West Indian voodoo practiced in abandoned tunnels of the London underground (what Yanks like me would call a "subway"). When the Guardians start looking into it, the voodoo cult retaliates by snatching Bubastis for their sacrificial rites. From that point on, the novel takes an absurd turn by which the Guardians act as if recovering Bubastis were more important than finding and smashing the voodoo cult. Finding Bubastis does lead them to the cult, of course--and into the presence of the Haitian version of the feathered serpent, the voodoo god Dambalawedo.

The struggle that ensues is disappointing, partly because the Guardians all happen into it separately, almost incidentally. Their efforts are uncoorinated and utterly lacking in the teamwork that normally makes them so fun to read about. Partly, the disappointment stems from some unfunny comic relief in the form of silly, jaded, thrill-seeking aristocrats. In a sloppy mishmashing of mythologies, Anne undergoes a bizarre transformation that puts her on an even footing with the feathered serpent god for a clumsily written grand finale.

Don't get me wrong--I still enjoyed Dark Ways to Death a lot, and if you like the other Guardians novels, you certainly won't want to skip this one. It may be the least of the series, but I'd still recommend it as a worthwhile groovy horror read.

THE HAUNTING OF ALAN MAIS by Peter Saxon (Berkley Medallion 1968)

This is the Guardians' haunted house adventure, three years before Hell House and three hundred times better! As I read this installment, I said to myself, "Now that's one haunted fucking house!"

An aging playboy shows up in his Lamborghini at the Guardians' headquarters. He's concerned that an old Kentish farmhouse he just purchased might be haunted. It is. Worse, when Anne Ashby shows up, the haunting spirit takes a very specific interest in her. Her personality shifts in ways that are alarming to her team-mates. Suddenly, the ice princess is sexually aggressive and promiscuous--but she only screams one name, no matter who her partner is: "Alan!" As a Guardian, she's supposed to be part of the solution, but other changes in behavior make her very much part of the problem.

Steven Kane and Father Dyball have plenty of other challenges, too. Kane has a not-so-secret crush on Anne all throughout the series, and in this case he really feels his jealousy throwing his judgement way off-kilter. Meanwhile, Dyball needs another priest to help with the exorcism, and the local curate is extremely "low church," maybe a step or two away from outright atheism. On top of that, Lionel Marks phones in the news that their aging playboy host is living under an assumed identity. Then there's the haunting itself. The supernatural is so powerful and pervasive in some scenes that the whole fabric of reality seems to warp. If you're familiar with that X-Men saga where they battle Proteus, Byrne's almost Dali-esque representations of liquid, twisting landscapes and figures occured to me as I tried to visualize what I was reading.

This novel has lots in the plus column, and little if anything against it. An awesome haunted house and a focus on Anne Ashby is a winning combination in my book!

(Cover by Jeff Jones.)

THE VAMPIRES OF FINISTERE by Peter Saxon (Berkley Medallion 1970)

Turning from underwater Nazi zombies to underwater vampires, it's time to wrap up The Guardians. One more amazing cover by Jeff Jones--it reminds me of a certain Pre-Raphaelite masterpiece, The Depths of the Sea by Burne-Jones.

A young couple on holiday in Brittany, France wander off the beaten path. Of course they get lost, but with considerable difficulty they find their way, shortly after sundown, to an isolated seaside village. It looks almost entirely untouched by the last few centuries, like something from a fairy tale, and the magical effect is heightened by an eerie carnival presided over by a green-clad figure in a wolf mask. Strange things are eaten and drunk, the carnival becomes increasingly orgiastic, and soon the young man is separated from his fiancee. The last thing he sees, before he himself succumbs to the allure of a village girl, is his pretty fiancee, bedecked with flowers and dancing with the Green Wolf in the pale moonlight. He awakens with a throbbing head to find himself alone--the village has disappeared, and his fiancee with it. I have to say, this is really a beautiful, dreamy set-piece of an opening. Very, very well done.

When the young man relates his tale to the Guardians, they inquire how long ago it happened. "Two days ago," he tells them. "The night of April thirtieth--" They exchange knowing glances and roll their eyes. Walpurgisnacht.

Kane sails along the coast in a hired boat, and actually finds a village that nearly fits the young man's description. It's like a whole other world. In fact, once he enters it, he loses all contact with the Guardians. For all practical purposes, the village remains in the grip of feudalism. But it isn't only controlled from the castle--there's a whole sunken city in the bay, with a church bell that tolls with the tides. The city, he learns, was flooded to kill a wicked and possibly immortal princess. It didn't work. She . . . adapted. Now, half-siren and half-vampire, she is Ahes, Mistress of the Sea.

This novel kicks ass! It's jam packed with werewolves, vampires, megaliths, and ancient sorceries, all set in a lushly depicted Breton seaside village gripped by a terrible conspiracy of silence. Magic, legend, and melancholy beauty drip from every page. My one complaint is that it's more of a Kane solo story than a full-on Guardians novel, but then I guess you can't have everything. No doubt about it--this ends the series on a high note. It makes me wish for more . . .

Who was Peter Saxon?

Holger raised the issue of Peter Saxon's pseudonymity, and it's come up before, so I thought it would be worthwhile to clear things up as far as possible on that question. To that end, I found an incredibly helpful site that "decodes" horror pseudonyms. Here, then, is what it has to say about Peter Saxon, with a few added remarks from me:

W Howard Baker used a number of other names. As W A Ballinger he wrote Drums of the Dark Gods (1966) [included in the Black Magic Novels of Terror series currently under review], and using the house name Peter Saxon he wrote two entries in the Guardians series, The Killing Bone (1968) and Vampire's Moon (1972) [this latter of which I haven't read yet, but it doesn't appear to be a Guardians novel on a casual flip-through]. He also wrote under his real name in other genres.

Rex Dolphin was another writer to use the Peter Saxon house name. He wrote one of the best Guardians novels [I agree!!], The Vampires of Finistère (1968).

Stephen D Frances also wrote under the Peter Saxon house name, though he didn't write Guardians books. He was responsible for The Disorientated Man (which was filmed as Scream and Scream Again, the book's subsequent title for rerelease), and Black Honey and Corruption (both 1968). Corruption was also filmed.

Wilfred McNeilly was yet another writer to use the Peter Saxon house name, writing The Darkest Night and Dark Ways to Death (both 1966), Satan's Child and The Torturer (both 1967) and The Haunting of Alan Mais (1969). As Errol Lecale he also wrote the six books in The Specialist series [all in my to-read pile for this year here at Groovy Age of Horror!]: Tigerman of Terrahpur (1973), Castledoom, The Severed Hand and The Death Box (all 1974), and Zombie and Blood of My Blood (both 1975).

Ross Richards was the name behind Peter Saxon for the Guardians novel Through the Dark Curtain (1967) [my least favorite of the series].

Martin Thomas used the Peter Saxon house name for The Curse of Rathlaw (1968) [possibly my favorite Guardians novel].

A Grand Finale for the Guardians

For whatever reason, the truly outstanding Guardians series only ran to six installments, and faded away without the proper resolution it deserved. My dream is to some day assume the mantle of Peter Saxon, and write the big final blowout that wraps the whole thing up. If I could ever get the rights, I'd do it in a heartbeat. I mean, literally, I'd pounce on it right this second if I knew I could do it legit. At this point, I have no idea where to even begin, where rights are concerned. Any suggestions would be appreciated. I'm hoping I can reach a point in my writing career where I can open that door, or at least find someone who can.

Right now, the project exists in my mind as sort of a checklist of elements that should go into such a novel:

1) Kill Father Dyball and replace him with Black Exorcist. Really, I'd open with Dyball's murder, and Steven Kane's first order of business would be to replace him. Surely the events of Nazel's kick-ass blaxploitation horror would show up somewhere on the Guardians' radar. Black Exorcist's experience with dark occult forces--and especially his defeat of them--makes him a perfect candidate for the clergy slot in the Guardians roster. Of course, that would be one more copyright to secure, but since I'm dreaming . . .

2) Bring swinging London more vividly to life. Considering that the Guardians are based in London, surprisingly little is made of it in the series. I'd hyper-stylize it into the kind of mythical dreamworld described by Tombs & Tohill in Immoral Tales:

European filmmakers exploited the idea of swinging London in a swathe of celluloid, from Antonioni's Blow Up (1966) to a whole series of the German Edgar Wallace films. Mostly set around Soho--which seemed to stretch from the docks of the East End to Portobello Road--these films used key images such as the illuminated billboards of Piccadilly Circus or the tower of Big Ben to show that they were 'really' shot in London. . . . A film like Night After Night After Night (1969) is a classic example, with its seedy setting of Soho strip clubs, dirty bookshops and dreary suburban streets.

3) Three superficially separate adventures that not only escalate in danger and intensity, but bring the Guardians closer to a final showdown with the master evil behind the monsters they face. I think most fans would rather see a full-on, open-ended continuation of the series with many more installments, than one novel to conclude it. This approach of embedding three adventures into a larger story would be my way of acknowledging that and to some extent delivering on it.

Each existing installment in the series is pretty slim to begin with, and they all have quite a bit of redundant material (character descriptions, etc.) so each can stand on its own. Take any three of the novels and strip out the redundant stuff, and you'd have three brisk episodes that could fit comfortably in one of today's fat blockbusters. The model I have in mind here is Tom Clancy's excellent Rainbow Six, in which an elite anti-terror unit undertakes an escalating series of missions. The middle of my novel would basically resemble an occult Rainbow Six, with the Guardians as an elite anti-monster unit.

4) Jet-set! The groovy age was a very cosmopolitan time, with international travel and intrigue a major ingredient in lots of popular movies and books. The Guardians series didn't go into that nearly as much as it might have, with four of the six novels set entirely in the British Isles. I'd use the trilogy of adventures to open things up for some globe-hopping to glamorous, exotic locales, as we see for example in Diabolus and the Mind Masters series.

5) Steven and Anne, together at last! Steven Kane lusts for Anne Ashby the whole way through the series, and she flirts with him quite often, as well. Since this will be it, the end, I'd like to give them one sweet night of passion, however bitter the aftermath may be . . .

6) Haunted house. A lot of hints are dropped throughout the series that the Guardians' headquarters is haunted. A series finale needs to go all the way with that, and bring it to full flower. The mostly-benign little weirdnesses need to ratchet up into a murderous supernatural onslaught. Which raises the question of why the group's founder, Gideon Cross, has them headquartered there in the first place. Which brings us to the ultimate question in the series that screams for resolution:

7) Guardians vs. Guardians. The series constantly suggests that there's something sinister, possibly evil about Gideon Cross. Steven suspects that Gideon formed the Guardians to keep his enemies close, as the saying goes. The Guardians, all individuals who've proven their effectiveness against the forces of darkness, are assembled under Gideon's watchful eye, and subject to his manipulations. There's also repeated implication of a sinister bond between Gideon and Anne, as though she's somehow in league with him against the others. In this novel, I'd love to confirm Steven's darkest fears about the group. That's why this would have to be a grand finale, because to push that to its most extreme conclusion would crack the Guardians in half. It would be the end of the group, with half or more probably dead on the ground before it was over.

8) Black magic. Steven has shown some modest occult and psychic talent at various points in the series, but to beat Gideon and Anne in a war for his life and soul, I'd want to push him into some very dark territory, as far as that goes. Like the hero of Night of the Warlock, he'd have to resort to some ugly, personally damaging stuff.

9) Action! Steven and Anne are both expert martial artists, and the Guardians always tear around in spiffy sports cars. Again, the series doesn't exploit any of this as much as it could, and I'd like to deliver some great cinematic set-pieces that maximally capitalize on the possibilities. A kick-ass fight between Steven and Anne toward the end, for example, before they get down to the sorcerous/psychic duel--or maybe even combined with it.

In short, I'd love to write something entirely faithful to the series that pushes it to its full potential and resolves all its lingering threads.

Not likely to happen any time soon, I'm afraid, but I can hope and dream . . .

On Wilfred McNeilly, by John McNeilly, his son

Not too long ago, I was pleasantly surprised when the granddaughter of one of the authors I've reviewed here left a comment. Pleasantly surprised?--I was thrilled! Because it was Ruth McNeilly, and her grandfather was none other than Wilfred, one of the Guardians series authors under the pseudonym of Peter Saxon (scroll down from this link for her comment). I've mentioned before my interest in pursuing a Guardians project of my own, and had little idea where to start in tracking down the necessary rights and permissions, so I pounced on this opportunity to inquire. Ruth was kind enough to put me in touch with her uncle, John, who now controls Wilfred's literary estate. It doesn't look like the Guardians project will go forward as I outlined it (more on that in another post!), but John was kind enough to write a brief bio of his father exclusively for Groovy Age:

Wilfred Glassford McNeilly was born at Georgetown, Strathclyde, in 1921 and died of a heart attack, aged only 62, in 1983, while living temporarily in Bexleyheath, Kent, while negotiating a six-book deal which was to have kept him occupied for the foreseeable future at his base in Jersey, to which he had moved, post separation from his wife, after spending most of his writing career in the tiny fishing village of Ardglass, in Northern Ireland.

He died as contented a man as any hedonistic novelist could. The contract had been signed days before and an advance been paid, out of which he had bought himself a new word processor and at least one bottle of the whisky that he was so fond of. His one regret would have been that the bottle was still half-full at the time of his attack.

Educated mainly in Scotland, his time as an army cadet while at school meant he was commissioned into the army soon after the outbreak of the Second World War. Initially he served with the Lothian and Borders Horse, then went to India with the 2nd Royal Lancers, before ending up as a Lieutenant Commander in the Royal Indian Navy, with which he saw out the war. He met and married his wife in India. She was a Scottish nurse, also taken to India by the war. He stayed on in India as part of Lord Mountbatten's staff for almost two years after the war, then returned to stay with his parents, who had by this time moved from Scotland to Antrim, in Northern Ireland, where the first two of his five sons were born.

He worked on the long-defunct Northern Whig newspaper and then the Belfast News Letter before taking up writing full time following the success of his first novel, Dark Amazon, in 1957, at which time he moved from Belfast to Ardglass. He produced a steady stream of novels, from Sexton Blake detective adventures, through war stories, general adventure, and tales of the occult, under various pseudonyms from his rambling sea-front home over the next twenty years or so. He also wrote a children's newspaper column, the Adventures of Gabbety Goose, which appeared in the News Letter every Saturday for about 15 years, and at one time had a weekly poetry slot on Ulster Television, which led to him proclaiming himself 'The Bard of Ardglass,' by which title he was affectionately known until he died.

He was a massively contradictory character, outrageous when drunk, and no stranger to magistrates courts in both Ulster and London in the aftermath of a wild binge, yet shy and courteous at all other times. His first love in the mornings while in working mode was to complete the day's crossword in The Times.

Apart from writing and drinking, his main loves in life were sailing, and, for many years, walking his massive Irish Wolfhound, Brian Boru. Ever the self-publicist, he took great pride in a newspaper cutting, under the headline, 'Sought yacht, found hound,' which told how he had bought Boru from a retired Air Vice Marshall whose country retreat he had visited in response to the advertised sale of a magnificent six-metre racing yacht. He bought the yacht, and somehow returned home several days later with a 14-stone Wolfhound, massively overweight but all the more a character because of that. For years, Boru sat faithfully outside many a pub waiting for his master to finish his evening's drinking.

After his death in 1983 his ashes were taken on a pub crawl then scattered by one of his brothers on the Irish Sea at the midway point between Scotland and Northern Ireland.