Posts Tagged ‘Passings’

Girl for Sale, A Legend in His Own Mind & Two Sad Passings

Tuesday, March 7th, 2023

Girl Can’t Help It will be promoted via Mystery, Thriller & Suspense Kindle book deals in the US marketplace, now through 3/31/2023. It’s $2.49 during the promotion period. Executive Order will be available during the same promotional period for $2.99.

If you haven’t read Girl Can’t Help It yet, please consider taking advantage of this offer. It’s the only novel of mine at Amazon’s Thomas & Mercer that hasn’t “earned out,” which stalled any further entries in the series (and they haven’t wanted anything from me since, despite my selling something like a million books!).

Executive Order is the third novel in the Reeder and Rogers Trilogy by Matt Clemens and me, and like the other books in the series it was spookily prescient. You don’t have to have read the first two to jump onboard.


E-Book: Amazon

* * *

I have been chosen as a Muscatine Community College “Legend,” which involves an event that includes a dinner and various things and stuff, coming up on March 30 (a Thursday evening).

Legends of MCC Promo

Legends of MCC Promo

This information rather pointedly doesn’t mention the price – a hefty $75 – but that’s because it’s a fundraiser for the college. It’s another of these really nice honors – like the MWA Grandmaster – that has a bittersweet tinge, because it implies to the recipient that maybe you’ve been at this long enough and should look for a porch with a rocking chair.

More info on the event is here.

And on the following evening, March 31, we will be presenting the “movie” version of Mickey Spillane’s Encore for Murder at Muscatine Community College’s black box theater (this will definitely not cost seventy-five bucks). “Movie” is in quotes because it was edited together from multiple camera footage of last September’s live presentation of the Golden Age Radio-style play starring Gary Sandy. More on this on next week’s update!

Muscatine Community College played a big role in my life. My father taught music there (and at the high school) and one of my key mentors, Keith Larson, taught at MCC for many years. Keith was a farmer and a poet and a dryly funny man with a gift for language – I’ve written about him here and elsewhere before.

In attending Muscatine Community College, I made the decision to turn down a couple of football scholarships (I’ve have been killed) and a Creative Writing scholarship at Iowa Wesleyan (where I’d won several high-school writing awards), and also not to follow many of my fellow high school classmates to the University of Iowa. I had my band the Daybreakers going and wanted to stick with that, so I chose MCC instead. Also, I wasn’t really ready to leave home yet. As an only child, I had a good gig going with my parents. I just wasn’t ready for a future away from what I knew, having no idea that I would in two years be getting married to the lovely Barbara Mull.

Muscatine Community College turned out to be both an excellent school – another mentor came into my life, Jack Lockridge, a tough ex-Marine with a warm heart – and the place where Barb and I sickened our fellow classmates with our obvious hallway affection for each other. Barb and I had been friends for years, but it blossomed into something that has lasted since the Fall of 1966. Seems to have taken.

I taught Freshman English and Literature at MCC for the first five years after graduating from the University of Iowa (and the Writers Workshop). Actually, there was overlap – my last semester at the Workshop coincided with my first semester of teaching at MCC.

So this honor is particularly sweet, and apt.

Speaking of Barb, she and I celebrated my 75th birthday (March 3rd) with an overnight stay in Galena, Illinois, a favorite getaway spot of ours, and the site of my novels Girl Most Likely and Girl Can’t Help It.

Max and Barbara at Otto's Place

We ate at several of our favorite restaurants, including Vinnie Vanucchi’s on my birthday and, the next morning, the best breakfast restaurant in the Midwest, Otto’s Place. That’s the pic I’ve included here.

The trip was about 75% great, and Barb was 100% wonderful throughout. But 25% of it reminded me why nowadays we seldom go anywhere that requires an overnight stay. For one thing, I have endeavored to make our house a great place not to have to leave – for example, the entertainment options – including my ridiculously huge library of laserdiscs, DVDs and Blu-rays, not to mention the CDs and books – are considerable. My late pal, actor Michael Cornelison, used to say he wanted to take all of his vacations at our house (he did once, too!).

Among the frustrations of our overnight stay at the Irish Cottage Inn (where we have visited many times – not really a cottage but a three-story resort-type hotel) was the TV choices – movies available were all twenty-bucks-a-pop On Demand stuff, much of which we had free at home (or “free,” i.e., were already paying for it). Previously the hotel had included HBO and other such movie channels.

We splurged on a room with a Jacuzzi and a separate bedroom (I believe you rich folks call that a “suite”) and discovered, much too late, that the Irish Cottage no longer supplied amenities like shampoo, conditioner, and a soap dispenser in the shower, instead providing one small bar of soap. Two tubs, two sinks, and one sliver of soap.

I discussed this, in a non-hysterical way, on check-out with a bearded youth who politely reminded me that “one bar of bathroom soap” was provided and I could have come down to the desk for more soap if need be. I wish I had, naked and wringing wet.

The getaway managed to be pleasant and well worth taking, but it was something of a reminder that the post-Covid world is one where restaurants and hotels have seized upon the excuse to dispense with many of the extras their patrons had come to expect.

My apologies for this update dissolving like a sliver of soap into a YELP! Review. Some of this is old age, and the indignities thereof. That I am expected to have a host of Apps (a term I despise almost as much as “dropped”) and endure being paged at restaurants via text (I do not text, not being a 16-year-old high school girl). Was it just last week that my wife warned me not to become Harlan Ellison? In other words, a curmudgeon?

What I am wrestling with, more than anything, is how to pace myself at this age. I wanted to complete the new Mike Hammer, Dig Two Graves, before we went on this getaway. Going on a trip with a chapter or two waiting to be written would make me nuts (nuttier). Also, the book needs to get into the hands of my editor at Titan, the great Andrew Sumner, who has been incredibly patient with me. When I see the cover on line and realize people are already ordering a book I have not yet finished writing, I get nervous.

I set myself a goal commensurate with the young me’s abilities, and wrote the novel in a blistering three weeks. That, I figured, would allow me to enjoy myself unburdened on our getaway. But I did not factor in small things like mental and physical exhaustion. In Galena, where a lot of walking is required, I ran out of steam fairly quickly, which was followed by the fun and games at the hotel, described above. (I spared you the hotel-room saga of my laptop insisting I run updates and then requiring me to enter a password I did not have.)

I share this with you, in part, because some of you have in the past gone to book signings in Chicago and other distant locales, and seen Barb and me at Bouchercons and San Diego Comic Cons, fairly regularly. These trips are either over or are going to be incredibly infrequent. We are pulling in and slowing down. (Me slowing down is still faster than most.)

Please know that I hate this. Getting away is good for the soul. I enjoy spending time with readers and my fellow creative types, authors, cartoonists, and filmmakers. I am exploring ways to do more right here in this smaller world, including some fairly ambitious things, like a return to filmmaking – we are seriously considering finally shooting Blue Christmas. But doing it right here in smalltown Muscatine, where I can go home at the end of the day to my bed and my happy little domicile and my preternaturally beautiful wife.

And when I say I wrote Dig Two Graves in three weeks, I must admit I’m not really finished – ahead is re-reading the book by way of a hard-copy manuscript, seeking typos, inconsistencies and sections that need tweaking. So how long did it take me start to finish? Call it a month.

I have no opinion about how long writing a novel should take. Dig Two Graves is relatively short – 50,000 words or so. Barb takes much longer on her drafts – six months at least. There is no rule. For me, I like to stay burrowed in, living in the novel, to give it consistency of tone and vision (so does Barb, it’s just a longer process for her). I like each book to have its own feel. To be a different place I visit.

So that much visiting, that much travel, I intend to keep taking.

* * *
Tom Sizemore as Quarry in the Last Lullaby

The first-rate, troubled actor Tom Sizemore has passed away. He played Quarry (re-named “Price”) in The Last Lullaby, and made a terrific older version of the character. Amid the sadness, I was delighted to hear that Sizemore had considered The Last Lullaby one of his favorite projects, and Price/Quarry one of his favorite roles.

This Quarry/Price name change business had to do with my displeasure with the director, Jeffrey Goodman, having brought in a second writer on the script. I wanted to make sure no sequel could follow. My script, right when I was momentarily hot as the creator of Road to Perdition, was what was used to raise the money. My novel, The Last Quarry, was a novelization of that script and will show you what I had in mind.

The changes weren’t radical and The Last Lullaby is a movie I am happy with (if disappointed it wasn’t my version, of course). I could have pulled the plug on the production when my script was rewritten without my knowledge, but we negotiated and I got a better pay day out of it, plus was able to give copious notes on the rewrite (which the director mostly followed). So I feel grateful that the movie exists and that Sizemore made such a great Quarry. He really is closer to my concept than the Cinemax version, where the actor (otherwise fine) ignored the wry humor that is such a part of my Quarry.

I never met Sizemore, and was not on set for the shooting of a script co-written by me and someone else I never met. But I am saddened by his passing, and only hope his fine work on screen in The Last Lullaby and in a lot of other films overshadows in years to come his tabloid misadventures.

Here is info on where to stream The Last Lullaby.

It’s available here on DVD for a mere $7.99.

* * *

I want also to note, sorrowfully, the passing of my friend Bill Mumy’s musical partner, Robert Haimer, the other half of the brilliant Barnes & Barnes.

Here’s what Bill had to say on Facebook:

I’m so sad to share the news that Robert Haimer, my friend since childhood and musical partner in Barnes & Barnes passed away this morning after a long illness. Robert was a one of a kind artist and person. Our relationship was based on harmony as was our music. Sometimes there was dissonance and silence and sometimes we made a mighty raucous roar together. I will miss making that unique “Barnes” music very much. Robert made many people happy with his talent and his humor. “Fish Heads,” our biggest hit, came from the mind of Robert Haimer. As with a lot of our catalogue, I just helped him fill in the blanks. I’m feeling stunned and somewhat shattered right now. My love to his wife Faithe, his sons Wynn and Ian, his brother Brian and all who knew and loved him. Robert’s music lives on. Enjoy it. yeah

M.A.C.

Paging Dr. Tongue, Plus Neal Adams and Martin & Lewis

Tuesday, May 3rd, 2022

In case you haven’t been listening, 2022 is the 75th anniversary of Mike Hammer’s debut in the 1947 novel I, the Jury. A lot of exciting things are already underway. So far we’ve got The Shrinking Island and The Menace out there from Wolfpack’s imprint, Rough Edges Press. And coming up in about two weeks from Rough Edges is a great anthology of Spillane novellas, Stand Up and Die!

But perhaps most exciting of all (next to the January 2023 prose biography, Spillane – King of Pulp Fiction by Jim Traylor and me from Mysterious Press) is the long, long-awaited release of the 1953 film version of I, the Jury…and in 3-D!

I The Jury 3D announcement

ClassicFlix – who specialize in (not surprisingly) Blu-rays and DVDs of classic films from Hollywood’s 1930s/’40s/’50s Golden Age – is bringing it out (likely in the fall).
I will be doing the commentary.

The 1953 I, the Jury is a very underrated film (including by Mickey). Biff Elliot makes a fine Mike Hammer and the script and direction by Harry Essex are faithful to the source. Peggie Castle and Margaret Sheridan make the definitive Spillane women, and the great noir specialist, cinematographer John Alton, works in 3-D with his usual artistry. I put only Kiss Me Deadly ahead of it and would call the first I, the Jury a tie with The Girl Hunters for second place.

The publishing schedule for the Hammer anniversary includes The Menace, with me writing a horror/crime novel from an unproduced Spillane screenplay; a collection of the three YA novels, The Shrinking Island, with the previously unpublished title tale a Spillane fan Holy Grail; and the soon-to-be-published Stand Up and Die! (with a Spillane/Collins Hammer story) the best collection of Mickey’s novellas ever assembled.

In August Titan will bring out the novel Kill Me If You Can, again with me working from an unproduced Spillane screenplay and dealing with the period between Kiss Me, Deadly and The Girl Hunters – the direct aftermath of Velda’s disappearance. The book includes five Spillane/Collins short stories, including two Hammers.

And the capper of this wave of Spillane publishing will be the 100,000-word bio from Jim Traylor and me.

* * *
Two legends: Neal Adams (left), Batman (right)
Two legends: Neal Adams (left), Batman (right)

I suppose being my age – 74, damnit – means a progressive thinning of the ranks of my heroes and friends (two groups not mutually exclusive). Now we have lost Neal Adams, at 80, who for my money is the best Batman artist of the “serious” period, which – let’s face it – he and Denny O’Neil (also gone) invented.

He did much more, of course. His work on the comic strip Ben Casey, in his very early twenties, is stellar – I have an original daily example on my wall. I loved his Deadman, the Green Arrow/Green Lantern work was groundbreaking, and, really, everything his pen touched turned to great.

But he also was a champion for the rights of his fellow cartoonists, and he was a big part of getting some recompense for Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel, the teenagers from Cleveland on whose bones the DC empire was built.

I knew him a little, and I was complimented that he knew who I was…something which still seems to me a little unbelievable. I have a small but cherished memory of standing in line with him getting ready to ship things home from the San Diego Comic Con. I introduced him to my wife as a beginner I knew, and his grin couldn’t have been wider. He had a smile as dazzling as his artwork, and that’s plenty dazzling. We chatted and laughed for about five minutes, a small encounter that I will never forget. I always stopped by his booth at the con in subsequent years just to say hi.

Not a big relationship, by any means. But a big loss.

* * *

Another sign of advancing old age is my reading habits. I’ve never been one to start a book and then put it down without finishing it. But now I won’t waste my time if a book doesn’t engage me in a chapter or so. Like most of you, I have an ever-growing stack (stacks) of books I can’t wait to read. So some of this stuff just has to get out of the way if it can’t grab me.

Related to this is my experience with Judd Apatow’s new book, Sicker in the Head, a follow-up (of course) to his Sick in the Head. Both books are Apatow interviewing individuals in the world of comedy. I read every page of the first book. This time I read about a third of it.

Not the first third – I selected interviewees I was interested in – like the late John Candy, John Cleese, David Letterman, Peter Davidson, John Mulaney, Kevin Hart, Sasha Baron Cohen, Samantha Bee, and Will Ferrell. But I have no interest in people I have barely (or not at all) heard of – for example, Amber Ruffin, Ed Templeton, Hannah Gadsby, Lulu Wang, and on and on. Please don’t write telling me who they are, and/or defending their presence in a book with the comic legend likes of Candy and Cleese. I just don’t have time to let these people in unless they get up on their hind legs in the pop culture and make enough noise for someone my age to notice.

Now a book I read every word of is the massive, inch-and-a-half thick, 8.5″ by 11″, 772-page (!) Marketing Martin and Lewis by Richard S. Greene…with a foreword by Eddie Deezen! (Why didn’t Apatow interview him?!?). This is a Martin and Lewis fan’s dream, and worth the fifty-buck price tag (although I got it through Barnes & Noble for $40 using a coupon).

The book is predominantly pictures – movie posters and ads, TV ads, magazine covers, publicity photos, comic book art (Neal Adams!), and on and on; but the text is substantial and thorough, with every Martin & Lewis film discussed and the individual, post-team careers of both are examined. Greene is the ideal fan – his knowledge and the collectibles he shares are mind-bogglingly vast, but his opinions are frank, fair and well-articulated.

It also has the greatest cover of any book ever published. I shared this opinion with my wife, who looked at me as if about to say, “Are you for real?”

Marketing Martin and Lewis
* * *

Here’s a New Yorker article about a Muscatine, Iowa (my hometown) resident who inspired my Mallory novel, No Cure for Death.

An interesting Road to Perdition article is here, looking at the film’s shooting locations (cameras, not guns).

Netflix has added Road to Perdition to its roster.

This review of the Nolan two-fer, Double Down, begins with a left-handed compliment but evolves into a pretty decent write-up. I wrote these books around 1974 and it’s peculiar to see them judged in terms that don’t acknowledge it’s not unusual for writers to grow over time.

Finally, this article wonders whether Road to Perdition is based on a true story (the answer is “sort of”).

M.A.C.

The Amazing Colossal Gilbert

Tuesday, April 19th, 2022

Last week my son called me with the bad news – Gilbert Gottfried had passed at 67, an age that seems terribly young to me now. Nate was apologetic about having to share word of another death with me, but at my age that comes (as the Music Man said) with the territory.

Frank Santopadre and Gilbert Gottfried
Frank Santopadre and Gilbert Gottfried

I hope Gilbert’s podcast partner, Frank Santopadre, will be able to continue their Amazing Colossal Podcast, which has been a glorious celebration and look back at all kinds of popular culture of the 20th Century, particularly film, but also TV and radio and even vaudeville. Gilbert was a master at impressions of obscure character actors, and a font of knowledge about show biz trivia (as is Frank).

When I did the show a few months ago, I was knocked out by Frank’s research, and his glee at being able to ask me, for example, why I liked the Ritz Brothers. Later, on the podcast, I explained myself – something I never expected to do in public, let alone in front of the smart, knowledgeable audience that had the sense to listen to this one-of-a-kind show.

The podcast, of course, is just one (if significant) part of Gilbert Gottfried’s contribution to popular culture. He laughed (and boy did he have a laugh) about me being a fan of his Saturday Night Live year (actually, twelve weeks); but I truly had been a fan (I liked Gail Matthius, too, and that Eddie Murphy kid showed promise). I have sympathy for that whole cast, who’d had the not enviable task of following in the original Not Ready for Primetime Players – after all, I followed Frank Miller into Batman, making me the Charles Rocket of Caped Crusader writers.

Gilbert’s character parts in various films were always funny stand-outs, from the Problem Child movies to Beverly Hills Cop II. Kids got to know that voice by the Aladdin movies and TV shows. But Gilbert’s bold adult delivery of the Aristocrats joke at the Friars’ Club roast of Hugh Hefner, less than three weeks after the 9/11 2001 terrorist attacks, was a shot across the bow at a humorless media. Perhaps the first victim of Cancel Culture – he lost his famous, lucrative Afflac duck gig after tweeting jokes about the 2011 Tōhoku earthquake and tsunami – Gilbert’s public exposure of the can-you-top-this backstage filthy private joke shared by comics became the subject of The Aristrocrats, an excellent 2005 documentary film by Paul Provenza and Penn Jillette.

If you’ve never seen it, track down Gilbert, the 2017 documentary that charts the life and some typical days and nights of a truly sweet, unique eccentric. More than any comedian in history, Gilbert Gottfried could make the punchline of a joke irrelevant – it was always about his delivery, the set-up, the commentary along the way. The journey, not the destination.

For those who are not faint of heart, I recommend Gilbert’s stand-up DVD, Dirty Jokes (2005); it’s also on Amazon Prime.

On the podcast, Gilbert always introduced his guests with long, elaborate, well-researched (thanks, Frank!) bios. I was stunned hearing Gilbert’s (shall we say) distinctive voice going on for several minutes detailing my accomplishments as well as a few embarrassing details.

Perhaps some of you will understand what a treat and frankly honor it was for me to be guesting with my co-author, Dave Thomas, on Gilbert’s show. It’s still unbelievable that as a stone SCTV freak I am now friends with Dave Thomas. And to have shared space with two of my comic heroes for a couple of hours – I will treasure the memory.

Dave said to me, recently, “You really love comedy, don’t you?”

Yes. Yes I do. But some of it died with Gilbert Gottfried, and we really could have used him sticking around in this horrific, humorless era, when people would rather take self-righteous offense than just fucking laugh.

* * *

Here, for your enjoyment, is the Amazon France translation to English of their description of my novel A Life in Red (aka Bait Money):

Among the thugs, quarantine is already the third age. It is still a matter of clinging to it. Nolan, an unlucky thug, tries to find a place in the sun. A nice combination, yes! With accomplices two inexperienced kids and a girl who has the fire in the buttocks and nothing in the cigar. And all for an old debt to the Mafia. What would it be like if he had to pay her to society!

I would love to read this novel!

* * *

Are you going to Bouchercon in Minneapolis this year? September 8-11, 2022? If so, and you’re registered, you’ve received an Anthony Awards ballot. The deadline for nominations is May 1st.

Here is a list of my books (some with Barb, one with Matt) that are eligible. If you haven’t voted yet, and liked any of these books, your vote would be appreciated. Here are the books (or in one a case a short story) that are eligible. You can vote for up to five in each category.

BEST HARDBACK NOVEL:

Antiques Carry On, Barbara Allan

BEST PAPERBACK ORIGINAL:

Skim Deep, Max Allan Collins

The Many Lives of Jimmy Leighton, Dave Thomas & M.A.C.

Fancy Anders Goes to War, M.A.C.

To Live and Spy in Berlin, M.A.C. & Matthew V. Clemens

BEST SHORT STORY:

“What’s Wrong with Harley Quinn,” Barbara Allan in EQMM July/August 2021

BEST ANTHOLOGY:

Suspense – His and Hers, M.A.C. & Barbara Collins

Reincarnal & Other Dark Tales, M.A.C.

Turning the Tied, Jonathan Maberry (editor) – includes a story by M.A.C. and Matthew V. Clemens

This voting is only open to registrants of Bouchercon.

* * *
To Live and Spy in Berlin Audiobook
Paperback: Indiebound Bookshop.org Amazon Books-A-Million (BAM) Barnes & Noble (B&N) Powell's
E-Book: Amazon
Digital Audiobook: Amazon

Speaking of To Live and Spy in Berlin, the audiobook is out now – which puts the entire trilogy on audio. A great Brit-inflected job by Brian J. Gill!

Check out an excerpt here:

* * *

The Menace by Mickey Spillane and me comes out next week. Read about it here.

M.A.C.

Robert Rydell/Siodmak/Odenkirk

Tuesday, April 12th, 2022

Last week I talked about Bobby Darin. Since then, my second favorite pop-music artist of the pre-Beatles era has passed – another Bobby.

Rydell.

Robert Ridarelli has received less acclaim than Darin, and he would have been the first to say he was fine with that. He was a humble man whose great accomplishments came early in life, as was the case with almost all the teen idols of the late ‘50s and early ‘60s. But he deserves better than just having a mythical high school named after him in Grease.

When Barb and I saw him perform with the other two Golden Boys of Bandstand, Frankie Avalon and Fabian – and while Avalon and Fabe were very entertaining – Rydell was the show stopper. For one thing, he was the only Golden Boy whose set was almost entirely his own hits; although the other two are somehow more emblematic of teen idols of the period, only Rydell was a consistent hitmaker. The only song he sang at the performance we saw that was not a chart hit of his was “Mack the Knife” – part of an excellent, obviously heart-felt tribute to Bobby Darin.

Darin was clearly Rydell’s model for moving into material that straddled teen and adult tastes – his “Old Black Magic” was patterned on Darin’s “Bill Bailey,” and Rydell’s biggest, arguably most memorable hit, “Volare,” was his “Mack the Knife.” “Sway” was another Dean Martin hit reimagined (Dino’s version of “Volare” informed Rydell’s) but his more rock-oriented numbers indicate the great “Wild One” and such fun numbers as “Wildwood Days” (which didn’t even make the Golden Boys set we saw) and “Swingin’ School.” His post-Beatles hit, “Forget Him,” is a fine ballad.

I met him twice and had an e-mail exchange with him once.

At the Iowa State Fair in 1981, Barb and I were strolling through the grounds one afternoon when I heard someone singing, “New York, New York.” I told her it sounded like Bobby Rydell and we made our way quickly to a bandshell stage in front of which fairgoers were on benches listening. It was indeed Rydell, and we heard most of a set that mingled standards with hits, including “Swingin’ School,” which I had always loved, though it’s a fairly idiotic song. But it had been in the Dick Clark-starring “Because They’re Young,” a major film event for the junior high kids of my era.

After the show, I tracked the performer to a small trailer – one of those two-wheel jobs, which would have provided him with just enough room to freshen up a little, maybe catch a nap and avoid pests. Well, not this one. I knocked and he came out and was very gracious to both Barb and me, giving me five minutes to gush about how I owned all of his albums. Which I did. Which I do.

We spoke a little bit about Darin and he seemed genuinely moved by my enthusiasm for that other teen idol of his era.

Very softly he said, “Ah, Bobby…Bobby….No one like him.”

Ten years or so later, Barb and I took in that Golden Boys of Bandstand show in Cedar Rapids. It really was a wonderful concert, but Rydell stole it. His “Mack the Knife” brought down the house, and he had more hits of his own to share than Frankie and Fabe put together.

Barb and I hung around the stage door like the wide-eyed fans we were, and all three came out and greeted a small group of fans, and took their time chatting and signing autographs. Rydell claimed to remember meeting us before. Avalon and Fabian were clearly impressed by how beautiful a woman I’d somehow convinced to go around with me.

In 2010 Rydell released a terrific CD, “Then and Now,” which was two albums – a re-visitation of his greatest hits, very nicely done, and a swing album in the Darin/Sinatra vein. I thought it was an outstanding job and wrote Rydell saying so, and got a warm personal reply – clearly not canned, as it responded specifically to my remarks. I dropped him a few notes after that, when he was suffering from health problems – he underwent several transplants (kidney and liver).

I tried, perhaps twenty years ago, to get a contract to do a book on the Bobby’s – Darin, Rydell and Vee. Bobby Vee I also met and he was a wonderful rock entertainer and a warm, lovely guy. My late musical collaborator Paul Thomas got to know him really well.

As for the other famous Bobby of that era, I’m not a big Bobby Vinton fan (don’t dislike him) and have one small connection. At a Vegas show, Vinton asked for a volunteer to duet with him and my father was enlisted. I wasn’t there, but I’m told Vinton was startled by my dad’s trained, commanding voice, and smilingly accused him of being a ringer sent to embarrass him.

The absence of Rydell and Vee from the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame is criminal. I feel the same about Pat Boone, for his importance (his cover records opened doors for the original artists, plus for several key years he out-sold Elvis), and for the Association and Vanilla Fudge for obvious reasons.

When Rydell passed away at 79, the Hall of Fame oversight came jarringly to the fore.

John Lennon, by the way, confirmed that the “Yeah, yeah, yeah’s” of “She Loves You” were inspired by Rydell’s use of them in several songs (“We Got Love,” which “She Loves You” started out as an “answer” song to the Rydell hit).

Anyway, here’s a taste of two of Bobby Rydell’s hits performed years later.

And from the same show, here’s a look at his Darin/”Mack the Knife” Tribute.

* * *

I’d like to call your attention to two excellent films noir that had somehow slipped under my radar.

Shakedown Blu-Ray cover

Shakedown (1950) stars Howard Duff, whose big success on radio as Sam Spade led many in Hollywood to think he was a natural for big league stardom. That never quite happened, though he had success as a B-movie star and wound up on TV starring on Felony Squad (earlier, he and his then-wife Ida Lupino had a somewhat successful sitcom, Mr. Adams and Eve). His career was likely compromised by McCarthy-era accusations, but Shakedown reveals him as an interesting screen presence whose rather putty-like features (while handsome) suggest an unspoken moral laxity that really power this particular noir.

Directed by Joe Pevney – whose other noirs are pretty middling and whose claim to fame is helming episodes of the original Star TrekShakedown charts the rise and abrupt fall of a newspaper photographer who climbs to the top over anybody in his way and who blithely blackmails dangerous gangsters until (of course) it all catches up with him. The pace is fairly breakneck and the cast is amazing – Brian Donlevy and (yikes) Lawrence Tierney are among those Duff betrays or blackmails. Noir veteran Peggy Dow and former screen Tarzan Bruce Bennett are cheerfully trampled along the way. With a script co-written by Martin Goldsmith, who wrote both the novel and the film Detour, you know what you’re in for.

The Devil Strikes at Night Blu-Ray cover

The Devil Strikes at Night is a 1957 German film directed and written by noir master Robert Siodmak, after his long stay in Hollywood (Criss Cross, The Killers). It’s an anti-Nazi film made in Germany, a little more than ten years after war’s end. If that weren’t enough, it has a remarkably rule-breaking structure, cutting between a wounded war veteran who returns to his job on the homicide squad and the crimes of a serial killer who is presented with startling sympathy. On top of that, the film seems to wrap up at the one hour mark with a half hour remaining. That it continues on in its bleak, uncompromising way – including a “happy” ending that has the protagonist heading off to the front to likely die – is pleasingly head shaking. By the way, it turns out the SS were a bunch of crumbs.

Both Shakedown and The Devil Strikes at Night are available from Kino for you other dinosaurs who still like physical media.

* * *
Comedy! Comedy! Comedy! Drama! cover

People are always asking me what I’m reading.

Well, I just finished the excellent Comedy! Comedy! Comedy! Drama!, the autobiography of Bob Odenkirk. The triple comedies of the title should indicate to potential readers (perhaps even warn them) that there’s more here about Odenkirk’s many years as one of our best comedy performers and writers than on Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul. Both of the latter get paid attention, each about a chapter’s worth. But Mr. Show gets more space, probably because Odenkirk was a writer/creator (with David Cross of course) on it, whereas he’s “just” an actor on the great Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul.

To put this in perspective, I said to Barb, “I love this book! You wouldn’t like it.” Keep in mind we’ve been married over fifty years, so I have reason to know her fairly well.

But Odenkirk conveys his own voice in the book – you hear him speak, you crawl around in his brain, you understand how he thinks and how he makes career choices, about which he frequently, frankly criticizes himself.

The book also has some strange resonances for me. Odenkirk lived next door to Dick Locher, my second Dick Tracy artist, who had been his Scoutmaster. Odenkirk’s best friend was John Locher, he was his father Dick’s artistic assistant who I worked with and liked very much (he tragically died very young, while he was preparing to take over the strip from his dad).

Also, Odenkirk knew Del Close – even met him in a bookstore in Chicago (as did I, when Del came to a Nathan Heller signing). Some here may recall that I directed Del in Mommy’s Day. Odenkirk invokes Del many times in his book.

My son Nate (then living in Chicago) met Odenkirk at a Second City event; Bob signed a Mr. Show DVD to me. We have never met, but I feel we have.

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Here’s an article on the making of The Expert, the movie I wrote back in 1994. I make some comments clarifying issues made in the piece.

Remember, The Menace by Spillane and Collins will be available later this month, and The Shrinking Island by Spillane (introduced by Collins) is available now.

M.A.C.