Life Everlasting and Other Tales of Science, Fantasy, and Horror

by David Henry Keller

  This should not be considered an anti-scientific attitude on Doctor Keller's part. His tales again and again show a heartfelt admiration for scientific research, and the aid it has given to humanity. His fight is against the effort to change man into a precise scientific instrument. He believes all such attempts will end in tragedy. Science, he believes, should be an aid, a help, constructed to serve, not command obedience from man. No scientific advancement merely for the sake of science, but for the sake of man!

  It was with stories based upon that conception that David H. Keller first appeared in print in a science fiction magazine with "The Revolt of the Pedestrians" in 1928. For long, long years. Doctor Keller had been writing to please no one but himself. In his spare time between hospital duties, in the evenings, he had written incessantly, injecting into his stories the experiences and knowledge accumulated through his own life. He wrote such books as "The Fighting Woman," "The Adorable Fool," "The Sign of the Burning Hart," "The Stone Fence," and "Deepening Shadows"; over five thousand pages which he never expected to sell. Of these, he sent only one to a publisher, "The Sign of the Burning Hart." Harper's Magazine offered to buy this if he would explain what it meant. The Doctor refused three times to do this, saying, "I will not draw a blue print of the story. The humming bird is beautiful alive; but dead and dissected by an anatomist, it loses that beauty."

  This lofty attitude of the "artist" called for radical change when the growing daughters demanded a college education. To finance this, he turned to writing professionally, and received an enthusiastic reception from the readers of Amazing Stories, Science Wonder Stories, and Weird Tales, where his efforts were accepted and published. While others wrote of rocket ships, ray guns, bizarre monsters, interstellar flights, and fourth dimensions, he wrote only of ordinary people and the problems they might conceivably encounter in the more highly specialized, scientific world of the future. The people in his stories lived; they were the men and women next door, experiencing and expressing the same manner of human behavior. In "Free as the Air," he showed a world where even air space was rented, and commercialism threatened to place a bounty on breathing. "The Psychophonic Nurse" told of a robot nurse that mechanically cared for babies (predicting a device that would register when diapers became wet, which is now used in Russia.) The story tells of inter-relations between parents, a child, and a robot nurse. In still another story, "White Collars," he wrote of the eventual uprising of a starving white collar class in a world where a man who worked with his hands was socially disdained but well paid, and thus showed a flaw in our social set-up that drove many of our high school and college students into an overglutted field that paid more in prestige than in salary. "Stenographer's Hands" had a gigantic corporation found a community of men and women with training so specialized that it affected their health until finally psychic-epilepsy destroyed their usefulness. This plot is not far-fetched, for the Pullman Company, in its early history, constructed an entire town completely controlled by one man. The whole life of the workers were subject to his rules. Depression and cuts in salary finally ended his domination. But today, in Hershey, Pennsylvania, the existence of an entire town centers about the creation of chocolate bars. In the coal regions, miners live in company houses and buy supplies from company stores with company scrip for money.

  Such subject matter was the basis of the keller-yarn, as his tales came to be called; and year after year, he won first place in popularity in the readers' columns and in specifically conducted polls of science fiction readers.

  When he sold his first story, he was 47 years old! The tales of a man who wrote himself and his experiences into many of the stories he created were bound also to show this influence of age. Examine most Keller stories, and you will find that the hero, often named Jacob Hubler, is frequently middle-aged, somewhere between forty and sixty. That is the case in "Life Everlasting," for instance. Jacob Hubler, hero of "Unto Us a Child Is Born," is virile at sixty years of age. The likable lead male in "The Adorable Fool" is middle-aged. This, it may be noted, does not necessarily preclude romance. Jacob Hubler's women must accept him as he really is and not in any polished idealization, and this they usually do.

  Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania, is the Keller family's ancestral home since 1736, and there, at Underwood, the Doctor is spending his riper years. Many of his stories are located around his home. There Taine of San Francisco solved his problem of "The Cerebral Library" and saved the community a second time from the dangers of enlarged cancer cells raised by an erratic scientist in the story, "Wolf Hollow Bubbles." "Creation Unforgivable" is located in the rear of the garden at Underwood. Part of the action of "No More Tomorrows" takes place in Stroudsburg. In writing about the town and its people, the author writes with incisive knowledge. In "The Devil and the Doctor," he tells of families who have lived near the Kellers and Buzzards for over two hundred years.

  The bond of friendship, between Doctor Keller and the editors of the early science fiction and weird magazines, was very strong. Hugo Gernsback, original publisher of Amazing Stories, and later founder of Science Wonder Stories, was so impresed with his work that stories were often accepted on virtually little more than the strength of the title. T. O'Conor Sloane, Ph.D., renowned scientist, who, at an advanced age, was the editor of Amazing Stories, would have liked nothing better than to publish Keller's entire morocco bound library of stories, if he could have contrived to explain in some manner their lack of the scientifictional element to the readers. As it was, no author in this writer's memory has ever evaded magazine policy as successfully as Doctor Keller. Many of his published stories had not the slightest tinge of fantasy, being best designated as off-trail. Strangely enough, the readers rarely complained. Farnsworth Wright, of Weird Tales, always particular about what he published, had, nevertheless, nothing but praise for the first author in the history of the magazine to win first place in popularity with the readers for each of the three parts of a serial, "The Solitary Hunters."

  It is common knowledge that Farnsworth Wright suffered from a very serious nervous disease contracted while serving with the armed forces in France during World War I. When the opportunity came to marry a very fine woman, he turned to Doctor Keller in desperation for advice concerning the wisdom of marriage and the possibility of a child inheriting his disability. Without an opportunity for close study of the situation, the Doctor staked his reputation and urged the marriage. The birth of Robert Wright, physically and mentally exceptional, vindicated his decision. When I informed Doctor Keller that Mr. Wright had told this story to me, he was amazed; for, during the years, he had never divulged a word of it, believing that Farnsworth Wright wanted the actual facts concerning his marriage kept an absolute secret. Actually, Farnsworth Wright had released the information earlier, and it had seen publication in the science fiction fan press.

  In addition to his fiction, Doctor Keller wrote many scientific articles. All told, over seven hundred scientific articles from his typewriter have seen publication in dozens of diverse scientific journals and popular scientific magazines.

  A family history, The Kellers of Hamilton Township, a Study in Democracy, was privately published while he was living in Louisiana. This history is so thoroughly documented that it has been accepted as a reliable source book by the Daughters of the American Revolution, an honor accorded to very few such histories. A companion book, tracing his maternal ancestors, "The George-Whitesell Families," has been typed, but never published.

  Early in World War II, Colonel Keller was asked by the Army Medical Corps to organize the first school for illiterates and foreign language speaking soldiers. Feeling the need for adequate training literature, he wrote a primer and first reader, using a basic English vocabulary of 370 words. It was not till two years later that Winston Churchill, in his address at Harvard, proposed the adoption of a similar basic vocabulary. He felt that the adoption and use of this would promote harmony among the peoples of the earth. David Keller knew at the time and Churchil
l found out later, that something more than a simple vocabulary was needed to perfect the brotherhood of mankind.

  In the foregoing, then, may be ascertained the elements of Doctor Keller's phenomenal popularity in the science fiction world. In addition to a simple story-teller's writing style which could phrase simple words into messages of extraordinary power, he possessed a vast knowledge of humanity, absorbed from his long years as a physician, and was able to supplement this with a background of unimpeachable scientific knowledge.

  It should also be observed that Doctor Keller never fabricated a weird tale about werewolves, ghosts, vampires, or other common plot-props of the terror tale writer. Actually, his horror stories were harbingers of the psychological novels and movies so popular today. The science of the mind, as displayed by an expert psychiatrist, was just as authentic as any of the science in his tales of future scientific development. Therefore, his horror stories are rendered with the same full effective power as his science tales.

  There is commonly found in keller-yarns a wry, whimsical, and often grim, type of humor. Satire is often revealed as simple pleasantries in the context of the story, but, occasionally, as in "The Flying Fool," we find the author almost chuckling sardonically at the behavior of his characters. Examine "No More Tomorrows," and you will find a strong element of this characteristic. It peeks out from "The Thirty and One" when least expected. Taine of San Francisco, in "The Cerebral Library," is not above drollness. "A Piece of Linoleum" has humor which makes the horror more terrible. This story could be called grossly exaggerated were it not based on real life, as are a great many of the author's seemingly most fantastic yarns.

  We deduce from this that, through all adversity, through the multiple tragedies and suffering of human beings he had witnessed. Doctor Keller had, perforce, to see some humor in the situation or go mad.

  To appreciate the whimsical humor of the good Doctor, it is compulsory that you read "The Devil and the Doctor," published by Simon and Schuster in 1939. In this work, the author sets out to prove, with the aid of devastating allegory, that the Devil is a real gentleman who is responsible for the bulk of progress up to the present time, and whose fair name has been besmirched by his brother, who assumes the name of God. The brother is actually the culprit behind the misery and suffering of mankind, but has used through the ages a clever, subtle, form of propaganda, not to mention brute force, to cover up his faults. So convincing is this argument that Mr. Tim O'Brien, a writer for the religious magazines, stated in his review of the book before the Eastern Science Fiction Association, that, in his opinion, "it was enough to turn the head of a priest."

  Publication of this title gained Doctor Keller considerable favor among the literary critics whose assiduous eyes were quick to recognize that a very human type of personality had written the book. But others did not like the book, for after a single advertisement, the publishers became silent about it. Later, several hundred were sold at a low price. It is a question whether religious pressure was not brought to bear on the publishers, on account of the character of the plot. How much greater might have been their distress, if they had only known that, when recalled to duty for World War II, David H. Keller, with the rank of Lieutenant Colonel, served with singular distinction as a professor at Harvard University where it was his responsibility to instruct more than six thousand chaplains of all denominations in their duties in the armed services.

  Like Edgar Allan Poe, David H. Keller found literary acceptance sooner in France than in his own country. When a group of Frenchmen founded a literary publication titled Les Premieres, it was with the purpose of "presenting to the cultured French a comprehensive view of literature by living authors." Regis Messac, formerly Professor of Literature in Montreal, Canada, was asked to determine the greatest living science fiction author. Messac selected David H. Keller, M.D., by-passing no less a notable than H. G. Wells in the process. As a result, "Stenographer's Hands" was printed in French. This was followed by other stories and a book of three stories titled "La Guerre du Lierre." Les Premieres was publishing his novel, "The Eternal Conflict," in serial form when World War II forced them to suspend publication.

  At present, the Colonel, nearly sixty-seven years of age, shares his ancestral home, Underwood, in Stroudsburg, with his charming wife and a little dog. While his army rank is permanent, it is probable that he will see no more active Army medical service.

  His most fervent group of supporters are still the science fiction and fantasy fans who first recognized the superior quality of his prose style. In recognition of their loyalty, he semi-annually gives hour-long addresses before the leading science fiction organizations. These addresses reveal an old man who refuses to age. His intellect remains crystal clear, his memory phenomenal, and his entire approach kindly and human. He is a master orator, full of wit and human understanding, and his guest appearances before these literary and scientific organizations is always regarded as the year's stellar event.

  The literary creatorship that has brought pleasure to many remains unimpaired. Only recently he completed a fantastic novel, "The Homunculus." This story tells of the effort of Colonel Horatio Bumble to create a son after the method of Paracelsus. It is not difficult to identify Bumble, his charming wife, and his Pekingese dog.

  In a recent letter, Doctor Keller tells me that he has finished his last long novel, "The Abyss," and that he will write no more. Personally, I doubt that statement. It is my opinion that when he has something to write, he will write it. He says that he is becoming a philosopher, but I know he cannot help writing any more than he can avoid breathing. He said as much in his interview in Science Fiction Digest for July, 1933:

  "I look forward to death as the Great Adventure. If after death comes nothingness, what a wonderful rest it will be, for I have been tired for many years. And if there is another life, I will go further, see more, spend less, than I have on any trip so far. The first thing I will do is to hunt up a good library. I am afraid that the Heavenly one is rather well censored, and I may have to go to the asbestos library of Gehenna to get the books I want to read. Then I am going to start writing. My idea of Heaven is to have every story accepted by an appreciative editor."

  I have personally selected the material for this anthology in the hope that it will show the work of a man who has lived fully and bravely; a man who has slowly, after fifty years of writing, made for himself a definite place in literature. It is my belief that the evidence contained in this volume will convince many that, in David H. Keller, America has produced another important contemporary author.

  — Sam Moskowitz

  Newark, NJ.

  September, 1947

  LIFE EVERLASTING

  FOREWORD

  A REAL science fiction story should be written about realities of life, concerning which all the readers are familiar. The most commonplace things of life can become the most wonderful, if handled in the proper manner. So, in writing of sickness, crime, poverty, starved and twisted bodies, life everlasting, radiant happiness, riches, leisure, marriage, divorce, and babies, the author feels that he is dealing with material with which the everyday man and woman is well acquainted. Given the supposed discovery of a wonder-working serum, the rest of the happenings seem to be most natural. Though the following tale will be considered a fairy story by some and a sermon by others, it is in reality a science fiction tale of the most classical type. And if, in addition to furnishing pastime amusement to thousands, it makes a few readers think and live and love better in an effort to make this a more beautiful world for our babies to grow up in, the efforts of the author will be well rewarded.

  David H. Keller, M.D.

  FOUR FAILURES MEET

  SALLY was sweeping the stairs. When she was not doing this, she spent her time making beds, scrubbing pots, and washing windows. Life in the cheap boarding house was just making dirty things clean, as far as Sally was concerned.

  From her babyhood, she had suffered from poverty and asthma. These
twin afflictions had stunted her body and warped her mind. When she was not conscious of the struggle to breathe, she was keenly aware of the fight to earn the necessities of life. The dual conflict left her no time for the finer things in life. Fortunately, she was only dimly aware of their existence. Days of work with nights of respiratory anguish dulled her soul, till she only had one pleasant anticipation, the pleasure of an early death. At twenty she was aged and worn, an old woman who had never been loved since the day her mother had taken the baby girl in her arms, cried a a little, and died.

  As she swept the steps, perfumed youth passed her. Mary Casey she had been called in Shamokin, Pennsylvania; but now, as a jitney dancer in the Moonland Dance Hall, she was called Valencia Moore. Her body was formed of curves, and her mentality was slightly above that of the adenoid moron. Her parents, alternating between love and hate, had procreated her in lust, and raised her in an environment that would have mired the whitest lily. She grew up to be unmoral rather than immoral. Wanting clothes, perfume, and a good time, she commercialized her sex appeal by spending her days in bed and her nights in the arms of anyone who would pay ten cents for a one minute dance.

  For six months she had passed Sally, the scrub woman, several times a day without speaking to her. Sally was only conscious of her as one of the pieces of dirt that someday would be swept out of the house. The two girls had nothing in common except that, anatomically, they were both females.

  As one girl swept up the steps leaving behind her a cheap perfume, and the other swept down the steps leaving behind her just dust, Harry Wild crabfooted down from the third floor back and passed both of them. He had a hump on his back the size of the regulation football, a right leg that was four inches shorter than the left leg, a twisted face, strabismus, and a clear conscience. For years he had made a good living selling papers and smiling at his patrons. On the street, he had friends from every walk of life. In his room, he read books, fed mice, and dreamed of a day when some woman would love him. For two years he had written daily love letters to Sally, and so far had never had the courage to do anything with them save put them in his trunk. Sally knew him, adored his smile, hated his mice, and kept his bed clean.