Robert E. Howard & Big Country Bullies
Robert E. Howard
Robert Ervin Howard (1906-1936) is best remembered for his classic sword and sorcery tales of the brawny Cimmerian swordsman Conan, though he wrote stories in a number of genres: horror (Pigeons from Hell, Worms of the Earth), oriental adventure (The Lost Valley of Iskander, Swords of Shahrazar), westerns both humorous (A Gent from Bear Creek) and conventional (The Last Ride, The Vultures of Whapeton), boxing (The Iron Man), and others. Howard's tales of Conan, Kull, Bran Mak Morn, Turlogh O'Brien and Solomon Kane created and defined the sword and sorcery genre, leading to innumerable pastiches and outright ripoffs of Howard's characters.
Howard was born in Peaster, Texas, and at the age of 13 moved to the central Texas town of Cross Plains, where he would live the rest of his life. As a boy Howard was small and bookish, and formed a very close relationship with his mother, staying home to avoid being the prey of local bullies. Howard discovered what would now be termed bodybuilding and boxing and remained a sports and exercise enthusiast the rest of his life. The bullying of the now 5'11", 200 lbs (1.8 m, 90 kg) teenager ended, and while Howard did not retaliate he maintained lifelong grudges and developed quasi-paranoid notions of lurking enemies.
Howard was variously described as moody -- ranging from quickly angered to having gloomy black moods -- introverted, and living in a fantasy world where at times real life became trivial. While Howard took some business classes after high school, as early as the age of 15, he had expressed his desire to write for a living. Howard sold his first story to Weird Tales in 1923 and the rest of his literary output is history. In 1930, despondent over the death of his dog "Patch," Howard was sent on a vacation by his parents who feared he might kill himself if left to brood at home. Six years later, on June 11, 1936, despondent over his mother's impending death, Howard went to his office and typed out:
All fled — all done, so lift me on the pyre;
The feast is over and the lamps expire.
He then went out to his car, took his gun out of the glove compartment and shot himself in the head.
source: http://www.sfsite.com/05b/bs200.htm
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