In 1957, Harry Shorten sought a way to invest the money he made from his comic strip, and ended up settling on a paperback book publishing company with an interesting gimmick. Naming the company "Midwood Books" after his neighborhood in the Midwood section of Brooklyn, New York, his gimmick was simple – give the “average American slob” what he liked.

No, Midwood wasn’t known for its classy titles or high literature, and it was definitely no Random House, but it succeeded pretty well. That just goes to show that the mosaic that makes up the American population has always had varied tastes. In order to be a success, a publisher need only discover and capitalize on a niche.

In addition to finding his niche in what the average guy liked, Shorten’s business practices broke down some gender barriers. A gay man from New York, he clearly understood the need to make a place in the literary world for the oppressed sexual minority. It is interesting to note that some of the lesbian titles Midwood churned out, and there were many, were written by men. But don’t be fooled ‒ he was no sexist. Shorten employed women writers and editors ‒  an unheard of practice at the time. He didn’t employ people on the basis of gender at all, but purely on the basis of their talent in the industry. A truly revolutionary act in the 50s and 60s.

While many of the titles Midwood published were admittedly aimed at men’s pleasure, Shorten wasn’t afraid to address the lesbian subculture. The cover art of Midwood’s titles was one of the primary things the company counted on to sell their titles. Employing artists like Robert Maguire, Rudy Nappi, and Paul Rader, many of these covers were racy enough to catch the eye of someone looking to indulge in a guilty pleasure. Some might even say that Midwood was known for its sleazy titles, given the conservative times. Shorten’s willingness to address a multitude of sexuality issues, however, advanced the paperback industry in its own little way.

There was a small group of men that wrote for him at the start of his company, and each took on several pen names – many of them, female names. This tactic was undoubtedly designed to make Midwood appear to be a much larger company to its readers than it actually was. Shorten also added women to his staff not long after he started. Elaine Williams, an editor and author (author of First Person, 3rd Sex) and Julie Ellis (writing as Joan Ellis) were two of Midwood's hottest writers.

Marijane Meaker published Spring Fire, the lesbian pulp fiction novel that launched the genre, under the pen name, Vin Packer. In fact, she had several pseudonyms including Ann Aldrich and M.E Kerr. I am willing to bet that most lesbian pulp fiction novelists from the 50s had at least one. It would have been more than just bold for authors of this genre to use their real names; it would have been the death of their writing career.  

The hallmark of pulp fiction was never quality literature, but rather a source of entertainment that spoke to a vast audience. Meaker’s writing was different. She not only depicted lesbians as everyday people, giving them a face in a society that otherwise made them invisible, she also turned out quality writing that came to win awards.

Spring Fire was published in 1952 by Gold Medal Books. This was a time when society still rejected homosexuality and, in fact, criminalized it. The literary world and larger public could, and often did, reject the theme in writing. Loosely based on Meaker’s own experiences at boarding school, the novel’s plot revolves around Leda and Mitch, two women who meet as sorority sisters and fall in love. (Meaker originally planned to call the novel Sorority Girls, but her editor thought it would be a bad choice. Instead, she chose a title that could easily be confused with a novel that had recently been published and was doing well, Spring Fires.)

Though she represented the characters in an honest way and depicted a passionate affair, Meaker was forced to end the story with Leda and Mitch unhappily parting. This move was a means of appeasing an antigay media and even the postal inspectors, who had the right not to deliver anything they found "offensive." Despite the need to write her characters into a tragic ending, Meaker opened the genre of lesbian pulp fiction for others to expand upon.

Mystery novels and Young Adult novels were among some of the other genres that Meaker penned. In fact, it was in the Young Adult genre that she originally wanted to make a name for herself. This was surely one of the reasons she used a pseudonym for Spring Fire. Coming out or even writing about lesbian lifestyles would certainly have prevented her from marketing books to young adults. She was encouraged to continue in Mystery, when an early novel that she wrote, Come Destroy Me, was reviewed favorably by the New York Times. It was a lucky stroke for a paperback book in that era of publishing to be afforded such a review, so Meaker decided she would create a Mystery brand under Vin Packer’s name. Other titles she published under this name include Dark Don't Catch Me, Young and Violent, and The Twisted Ones.

Meaker found creative ways to navigate the publishing industry. Her pen names were a tool she used in her favor. After unsuccessfully finding an agent in New York, and facing the difficulty of being taken seriously by publishers ( she had a double deficit in the field in the 1950s - she was a woman AND a lesbian), she decided not only to represent herself, but to create her own small publishing house. This is when she got the idea to use pen names. She went on to represent and publish each of her own pen names as clients, and finally found some success in publishing.

Later in life, Meaker opened up about having a love affair with Patricia Highsmith, another lesbian novelist. They met at a lesbian bar in Greenwich Village, New York in the late 1950s. They shared a passion for words, which alone can be a powerful seduction. One has to wonder if Meaker, as a budding author, was at least partly attracted to Highsmith because Pat was already a successful and published writer. In addition to the physical attraction Meaker has admitted to in interviews, might she have seen in Highsmith what she aspired to be?

She confesses she didn’t feel worthy of being Highsmith’s lover. Early in their relationship, their differences caused Meaker to consider breaking off the relationship several times despite the fact that Highsmith was equally enamored with her. Meaker was more uncomfortable with her sexuality than Highsmith, who openly showed affection in public. Insecurities and jealousy caused the two women’s relationship to be rocky. Several times they parted ways, only to get back together again. Two years after first becoming involved, they finally broke off their relationship for good when Meaker had an affair. She saw Highsmith once after their breakup, but it was as if the heartbreak had turned Pat into someone else - a cold, miserable woman. Meaker's relationship with Highsmith made such an impact on her, however, she titled her own memoir Highsmith: A Romance of the 1950’s.

Paving the way for other writers in the lesbian pulp fiction genre, Marijane Meaker holds an important place in the publishing world. Though she was forced to write her lesbian heroines into despair in order to get such a tale published, the success of Spring Fire helped open the paperback publishing industry's eyes to the potential of this new genre. Her love affair with Patricia Highsmith had a great impact upon her. Was it fate that brought them together? There might be something to that saying that we meet everyone for an important reason.

One of the trademarks, the unwritten rules, of lesbian pulp fiction back in the '50s and '60s was that the stories often ended unhappily. This was just one of the rules, however, that Julie Ellis insisted on breaking when she began writing and publishing in the genre.

A single mother living in New York City, Ellis forged ahead and built a successful writing career that supported her family. Although a heterosexual woman, Ellis was dedicated to social causes and made the decision to write and publish lesbian fiction… perhaps because such characters were still under-represented in paperback fiction at the time.  (more…)

Not intended to launch an entire lesbian fiction genre, it was a story about women during wartime, some of whom happened to be romantically involved with other women. Women's Barracks, though, resonated with men and women alike—both straight and gay. In its first year, the book sold over 1 million copies and allowed Gold Medal Books to... well, strike gold.

Women’s Barracks also caught the attention of the government, unfortunately, and was singled out by the Gathings Committee as an example of how the paperback industry was subverting the morals of America. The threat of fines and incarceration made the paperback industry skittish about publishing anything that could be considered “indecent” and before long, a sort of self-censorship was in full swing.  

Many stories featuring characters that lived their lives outside the rules of the prevailing morality of the times soon became dark and punishing, as there could be no happy endings for those who defied convention. Still, the lesbian pulp fiction novels were enormously popular and soon paperback publishers—beginning with Gold Medal—realized sales would skyrocket if they moved from reprints to “paperback originals.”

This move toward of the publication of original fiction by paperback companies created an immediate and strong demand for writers and provided unprecedented opportunities for women writers in particular. While it is true that some of the lesbian pulp fiction novels during the 1950s were written by men using female pseudonyms, a good number were written by women, many of whom were lesbians themselves. (Patricia Highsmith and Marijane Meaker top this list.) And although they were still required to write within the prescribed moral guidelines set by their editors, quite a few were able to portray the lesbian lives of their characters with a significant degree of honesty and compassion. The Golden Age of Lesbian Pulp Fiction had arrived.