M. K. WREN – Dead Matter. Conan Flagg #7. Ballantine, paperback original, 1993.

   I thought this series was dead, but after a nine year hiatus, it’s back. Conan Flagg, bookstore owner, private detective, and wealthy man, returns from a trip to his hometown in Oregon to find chaos.

   While he was gone, his store manager has arranged a book signing for a local boy made good, and the bookstore is swarmed. During the signing, a local logger, being a little put out with the author for bedding his wife, threatens him with a chain saw in the store, but is disarmed by Flagg.

   The next day, after a party which Flagg attended, the unpopular fellow is found with is throat ripped out — by a chain saw.

   I liked the Flagg series in its original incarnation. Wren, who has written in several fields, knew how to tell a story, and in Flagg had created a sympathetic if not outstanding character. The books were not designed to make any top 10 lists, but were decent examples of their craft.

   I see no reason to revise any of these judgments for this.

    The Conan Flagg series —

1. Curiosity Didn’t Kill the Cat (1973)

2. A Multitude of Sins (1975)
3. Oh, Bury Me Not (1976)
4. Nothing’s Certain But Death (1978)
5. Seasons of Death (1981)
6. Wake Up, Darlin’ Corey (1984)

7. Dead Matter (1993)
8. King of the Mountain (1994

THE MYSTERY OF THE HOODED HORSEMEN. Grand National, 1937. Tex Ritter, White Flash, Iris Meredith, Horace Murphy, Charles King, Heber Snow, Ray Whitley and the Range Ramblers. Director: Ray Taylor.

   The Mystery of the Hooded Horsemen doesn’t have much Mystery, but it does have a lot of hooded horsemen, charging across the dusty trails of Gower Gulch with commendable energy.

   This is, in fact, a rather ambitious undertaking for a “B” Western, with some vigorous stunting and tricky camerawork in the many Chase scenes.

   It stars Tex Ritter, so it’s not much on subtlety, and anyone who’s seen more than one of these will spot the Secret Heavy as soon as he looks up from his card game and flashes his oily smile, but director Ray Taylor plays the familiar melody without a trace of contempt, and manages to wrap it up just like it was fresh goods.

   I should add that Mystery features one of the earliest appearances of that ultimate Cult Actor, Hank Worden, here billed as Heber Snow, and playing a dumb deputy with the disarming quirkiness that would endear him to my generation.

    Editorial Comment:   Not only can this movie be found easily on DVD (see above), it can be seen for free in its entirety (60m) on www.archive.org. (For some reason, the title on the DVD has been subtly changed.)

        #7. TUG NORTON, by Edward Parrish Ware.

   Tug Norton is a private detective and creation of prolific author Edward Parrish Ware (1884-1967?). These stories are told first hand by Tug Norton:

   Norton notes that when business is dull, he entertains and instructs himself by studying his casebook (The Devil Winks). This is how some of the Norton stories begin, with him reliving the case he has looked up in his files.

   Tug Norton is a former cowboy and policeman. He formerly served in the police department in Kansas City, but lost his position there when new police commissioners came into office and fired “all those politically off-colored,” including him. (Lost Lake)

   His past as a cowboy is brought out in the story “The Sow’s Ear”, in which Lafe Spear, a friend of his from Oklahoma, shows up at the agency to hire him. Lafe Spear and Norton had worked together as cowboys some twelve years previously. This story is written as a contemporary Western: horses are used, and the principals dress as cowboys (including Tug Norton). The setting is rural Oklahoma.

   The Kaw Valley Detective Bureau is based in Kansas City, Missouri, but the cases are also spread out in numerous other locations. Norton states in one story that he was not interested in out-of-town cases, and that he was “confining my practice—what there is of it—to the city.” (The Tomahawk)

   However, contrary to this declaration, Norton does take cases outside Kansas City. In the Norton series there are some stories in an urban setting, but the series is a wide-ranging one and has quite a few stories in rural settings. For example, one story, “The Silent Partner”, begins in Kansas City but most of the action takes place in the wilds of Arkansas.

    “Empty Pouches” takes place in Arkansas, “The Trackless Trail” and “The Tomahawk” cases are in Kansas, “The Queen’s Patteran” in and around Joplin, Missouri, and so forth for many other cases. “The Devil Winks” is mostly in Kansas City, but the climax and finish take place in rural Arkansas.

   In “A Dead Man in the Cast,” Norton discusses an early case in his career, before he had any assistants. At that time the agency consisted of just himself and his secretary-receptionist Mary Malloy. The offices at that time were in suite 606 (sixth floor), Gateway Building.

   Norton never used the front entrance to his offices, instead using as the entrance another door along the hall that showed the words: Andrew Harper, Stocks & Bonds, Private. This suite masked an entrance to his real offices next door.

   In another early story from his career as a private detective, “The Wheels Turn,” shows a client hiring him at his hotel. Norton mentions that a year after this case his offices were in the Sandstone Building. In his early cases Norton seems to have been aided by having cases referred to him by Chief Enger, his former boss at the Kansas City Police Department.

   He does use other operatives in his work, and they show up in the stories from time to time. As of the early 1927 stories, Jim Steel was his chief assistant, and worked with him on “The Queen’s Patteran” case among others. Other unnamed detective operatives also show up in stories such as “When Fate Wants a Man.”

   Norton has an office boy named Spec, who announces visitors and would-be clients. Spec is noted as being “something of a mimic.” (A Game With Death) No doubt he is also a detective in training.

   Norton on occasion is called in to help various law enforcement officials in Missouri. The story “A Game With Death” features one of those cases. A sheriff named Hap Craker calls on Tug Norton in his Kansas City office and asks for help against a gang of criminals infesting his county.

   In another case, Sheriff Sam Sneed from Arkansas, an old acquaintance of Norton’s, comes to him for help in solving a series of robberies and murders. (Empty Pouches) In a third case, Sheriff Rube Wallace of Cold Springs County called for Norton’s assistance in a multiple arson and murder case. So it appears that Tug Norton had gained a good reputation for solving difficult cases.

   The Kaw Valley Detective Bureau is also on retainer with various clients, or in other words paid at regular intervals in case their services are needed. “The Dumb Spot” is an example where one of these clients calls them in to help solve a bank robbery and murder.

   The agency has connections with other detective agencies around the country, and they could call in for help on a case if necessary. This is the case in “Dynamite and Six-Guns,” where a friend from a Chicago detective agency has a case that is taking him to Kansas City. He calls Norton and asks for his agency’s assistance in the matter. It turns out to be an exceedingly violent case for Norton, but he wins a big fee.

   Some of his cases are just downright offbeat and strange. The first is “The Seven Coffins”, a story late in the series. Norton’s agency is hired to guard six empty coffins in a deceased millionaire’s mansion, but the mystery of the seventh coffin causes murder. The mortician and his assistant are involved, and one scene takes place at the funeral home.

   In another case, “The Tomahawk,” a rich man has suddenly become a hermit in his own mansion, and Norton has to find out why. In this case, an old Gypsy curse from a nearby tribe is the reason for the man’s behavior.

   Even though there is plenty of violence in the series, with numerous gunfights, Norton is not a big believer in using guns to solve every problem. In the story “Hell’s Backyard,” he puts forth his philosophy upon the use of guns. He says that any sleuth, either police or private detective, who is overly fond of using guns to solve problems is asking for trouble. He either gets shot or fired for using his gun.

   This attitude is interesting for that time, considering that the pulps are filled with violence, and gunfights are common in this series. In fact, Ware’s own Ranger Calhoun series are probably some of the most violent in the magazine, and rarely does a story end without the criminal being shot. However, even this series couldn’t compete with Judson Philips’ series about the Park Avenue Hunt Club when it comes to violence.

   Norton is a bit of a philosopher, and begins many of the stories with some of his philosophy (based on experience and observation). Here is an example:

   Norton’s idea of a vacation from work is to go fishing. In “Trouble Up the Stream,” he and his assistant Jim Steel go on a week-long fishing trip. However, as expected, they run into trouble and have to solve a murder.

   This series was begun during the formative period of the hard-boiled private detective type of story, but still uses features of the more formal detective story, such as the use of logic and deduction to solve crimes. It does have some features of the hard-boiled story; the stories are still very violent in the private detective way, with the conclusion often resolved with gunshots.

   Tug Norton is definitely a tough, hard-boiled detective with plenty of experience, and his speech and behavior show this. He doesn’t act like the stereotypical lone wolf private detective. He is more of a descendant of the older detective characters of the dime novels type. Many, but not all, of the new private detective stories are primarily urban in setting.

   Ware had many stories published in Flynn’s/Detective Fiction Weekly in the 1920s-1930s. The Tug Norton series numbered 40 stories from 1926-1934, including two in Dime Detective. The Ranger Jack Calhoun series, also by Ware, numbered at least 59 stories from 1926-1936.

   A third series by Ware was the Buck Harris series of 12 stories 1930-1934. Battle McKim was another series by Ware, counting 12 stories 1934-1935. Ware’s character Sheriff Bob Stratton appeared in 2 stories in 1929.

   So Ware was very busy writing for this one pulp title. His Calhoun stories seemed to be the most popular, and the character appeared on the magazine’s cover a number of times. Tug Norton, although seemingly not as popular, was in my opinion the better written series.

      The Tug Norton series by Edward Parrish Ware:

    From Detective Fiction Weekly:

The Tree-Top Trail     January 30, 1926
The Fifth Gate     March 13, 1926
The Queen’s Patteran     January 1, 1927
Hell’s Backyard     March 26, 1927
The Silent Partner     April 2, 1927
Lost Lake     May 14, 1927
The Hole in the Hill     October 1, 1927
Empty Pouches     December 3, 1927
The Tomahawk     February 18, 1928
The Devil’s Pocket     February 25, 1928
The Devil Winks     March 3, 1928
Hitched to the Wind     April 14, 1928
The Wheels Turn     April 28, 1928
When Fate Wants a Man     October 20, 1928
When Thief Catches Thief     December 1, 1928
Signed With Lead     December 15, 1928
The Death Stone     November 2, 1929
The Trackless Trail     November 30, 1929
The Locomotive Mystery     February 22, 1930
Hot Eyes     July 5, 1930
A Game With Death     May 24, 1930
The Sow’s Ear     October 18, 1930
Prison Shoes     November 22, 1930
The Jade Boomerang     December 6, 1930
Snow Camp     December 13, 1930
A Background of Vendetta     April 11, 1931
Consider the Sphinx     October 24, 1931
Trouble Up the Stream     November 28, 1931
The Yellow Demon     July 16, 1932
The Devil’s Do-All     July 23, 1932
The Pole-Axe Problem     October 1, 1932
Behind the Green Mask     November 12, 1932
Monkey Blood     February 25, 1933
Red Skies     May 27, 1933
A Dead Man in the Cast     August 12, 1933
Dynamite and Six-Guns     January 20, 1934
The Seven Coffins     February 17, 1934
The Dumb Spot     June 9, 1934

    From Dime Detective Magazine:

The Skull of Judgment     March, 1932
The Gallows Clue     July 15, 1933

    Previously in this series:

1. SHAMUS MAGUIRE, by Stanley Day.
2. HAPPY McGONIGLE, by Paul Allenby.
3. ARTY BEELE, by Ruth & Alexander Wilson.
4. COLIN HAIG, by H. Bedford-Jones.
5. SECRET AGENT GEORGE DEVRITE, by Tom Curry.
6. BATTLE McKIM, by Edward Parrish Ware.

DANGER MOUSE. Animated. Episodes of five to twenty five minutes each. UK: 1981 through 1992. US: Nickelodeon premiered June 4, 1984. Cosgrove Hall Films. Thames Television. Created by Brian Cosgrove and Mark Hall.   Voice Cast: Danger Mouse (David Jason), Penfold (Terry Scott), Colonel K (Edward Kelsey), Baron Silas Greenback (Edward Kelsey), Stiletto (Brian Trueman), Isambard Sinclair (David Jason), Nero (David Jason’s voice sped up). Available on DVD.   Recommended: The shorter episodes on YouTube over the longer ones available on Hulu.com and IMDB.com.

    “He’s the greatest. – He’s fantastic. – Wherever there is danger he’ll be there. – He’s the Ace. – He’s amazing. – He’s the strongest, he’s the quickest, he’s the best! Danger Mouse…” (Theme sung by Sheila Gott.)

    This action hero/spy comedy will appeal to all ages. The animation is limited, cheap, and guilty of reusing too much stock footage, but it also has a visually pleasing look and adds enough visual gags to be forgiven for its shortcomings.

    The writing is top notch British silly, not unlike Monty Python. Parody and satire is common and not limited to the obvious targets of Bond and John Drake (Danger Man). Bad jokes and silly puns are there as well for the kid in all of us, though I guess children could watch this cartoon as well.

    The character are well defined and funny. The narrator Isambard Sinclair introduces the story, explains things to the audience to keep the action moving, and occasionally asks questions at the end spoofing the narrators of old serials.

    The good guys are lead by Danger Mouse. DM is a white mouse with an eye patch that goes well with his white jumpsuit that has DM monogrammed over his left breast. He is everything his theme song claims he is and more. His sidekick Penfold is a daft, but loyal hamster, codenamed “Jigsaw” because he always falls to pieces.

    Colonel K is head of a secret organization and gives Danger Mouse his assignments. There is some question over what animal Colonel K is, a chinchilla or walrus (like it matters).

    The villains are lead by DM’s archenemy Blofeld … oops, I mean … Baron Silas Greenback, the fiendish frog, the terrible toad, whose only wish is to take over the world or kill Danger Mouse so he can take over the world. Filling the role of insane villain’s pet is Nero a fluffy white caterpillar. Stiletto is a crow, an idiot, and the Baron’s top henchman.

    DM and Penfold live in a red pillar-box near Sherlock Holmes on Baker Street. As any proper spy of that era, Danger Mouse has a special car. The Mark III can do a variety of things including fly.

    The plots the Baron creates to take over the world illustrates the series’ absurdist humor. In “Who Stole the Bagpipes?” bagpipes are sheep-like creatures grazing in Scotland. The Baron rustles ten thousand bagpipes to build a sonic weapon capable of destroying cities.

    “Lord of the Bungle” has the Baron turning elephants into sugar cubes so when heads of state all over the world put the sugar cubes into their tea the elephant will reappear and squash the government leader.

    My favorite is “The Dream Machine” when Danger Mouse and Pedfold are trapped in the Baron’s dream machine where surreal is reality, the impossible possible, and Penfold’s thoughts turn into visual puns.

    If you are willing to overcome the misguided prejudice that cartoons are just for kids, give this a try. Or find some child to watch it with. Neither of you will regret it.

   SOURCES:

        Wikipedia
        Cosgrove Hall Ate My Brain
        DangerMouse.org

WEST 11. Warner-Pathé, UK, 1963. Alfred Lynch, Kathleen Breck, Eric Portman, Diana Dors, Kathleen Harrison, Finlay Currie. Director: Michael Winner.

   A minor, all-but-forgotten film, one that Leonard Maltin’s book (2009 edition) gives only one and a half stars to, but it’s far better than that. Filmed on location in London’s Notting Hill section, West 11 (named after the postal code) is a true noir film. If you’re ever able to see this film, you’re likely not to forget it for a while.

   That it’s filmed in black-and-white only adds to the mood: rundown post-war apartment complexes, seedy eating establishments and swinging basement level jazz clubs, rain-slicked streets, and members of both sexes searching for love and the meaning of life (with sex on sweat-stained sheets standing in as a poor substitute for companionship).

   The movie is slow in getting going, I admit that (which I’m sure explains Maltin’s use of the word “lumbering” to describe it). One might easily get frustrated in following Joe Beckett (Alfred Lynch) around – Beckett is an emotional cripple stumbling from job to job, from girl to girl (Kathleen Breck, and the slightly older Diana Dors), unable even to love his mother (Kathleen Harrison) – if one were not fully aware of the interest that the old soldier-type Richard Dyce (Eric Portman) has in him.

   The criminous portion of this film is confined to the final 20 minutes – Dyce has an aunt who he believes has lived long enough, and Beckett might be just the person to do something about it – but the slow build-up is worth the wait. And it should be noted that by the time the 60s had rolled around, noirish films like this one were no longer required to have “happy” endings, as most of them in the 40s and 50s needed to do.

Note:   Here’s an amusing two minute clip from YouTube. I think what’s happening is self-explanatory.

JOHN CREASEY – So Young, So Cold, So Fair. Dell #985, paperback, August 1958. Hardcover editions: Harper & Brothers, US, 1956, as Beauty Queen Killer; UK, Hodder & Stoughton, 1954, as A Beauty for Inspector West. Reprinted several other times in paperback, including Berkley F1095 (1965), and Pan-UK (1956).

   I think I like the British title best, but the one they came up with for the Dell paperback, which is the one I just read, has a certain poetic ring to it. (It comes from the ballad “St. James Infirmary,” if it sounded familiar to you and couldn’t quite place it.)

   I don’t usually read novels with serial killers in them, but this one sort of sneaked up on me, and I’d long since committed myself to it before I realized it.

   Being killed, in methodical but not identical fashion – the killer being content to use any method that works – are the local district winners of a beauty contest being sponsored by a London soap company. And when the papers find out about it, their banner headlines make Inspector Roger “Handsome” West wish that maybe he was in another line of work.

   There are a lot of clues to be followed up on, some of them straightforward, some of them contradictory, and it takes all of West’s efforts throughout the book to determine which is which. But this is no mere novel of detection. There are several action scenes every so often designed to pump up the reader’s interest, and very effectively, too.

   Complicating matters somewhat is that West has been assigned an assistant copper he doesn’t particularly like, but since it happens that DI Turnbull saves West’s life early on in the tale, he’s forced to keep him on the case. A roving eye for the ladies is one of Turnbull’s flaws, and in this case, it’s one of the beauty queens who attracts his immediate attention, which makes her present two suitors, both suspects, as it turns out, rather annoyed. (It is hard to say which one over the other.)

   So this is the story that Creasey does a fine job with, although in somehwat of a heavy-handed fashion. As a detective story, it is rather a straightforward one. It is difficult to say how he manages to keep his cards so well hidden that the killer comes as a surprise, and yet an obvious one, but he does.

   Or at least I think so. Now that the book is finished, I might want to go back and see if it all holds together. But I won’t, simply because maybe it won’t. Hold together, that is. I’m going to leave well enough alone.

GEORGE BAGBY – Murder Calling “50”. Doubleday/Crime Club, hardcover, 1942.

   History books are fine, but they don’t tell the whole story. The same pieces of personal history may occur for millions of people everyday, small events that affect their lives many times over, but they hardly ever make it into the history books, and if they do, you’ll only find them in the footnotes. By the time the children of a generation or two later come along, pieces of their parents’ lives are gone, totally forgotten.

   Personal diaries and mystery stories, that’s the only way some important things will ever be remembered. A case in point: this book (of course), which centers about the air raid drills and blackouts that took place in New York City (and probably all up and down the East Coast; California was looking in another direction).

   If you didn’t live through the days themselves, who remembers anything about them today? Even the title of this book has no significance any more. Air raid wardens and civil defense personnel had to spread the word when a drill (or actual attack) was coming, and they did it by phone and by code; everyone who was called was required to spread the word to three or four others. “50” is the code for “man your posts.” “52” is the code for “all clear.”

   Who knows this today? Who remembers the routine of blackout curtains, heading for designated apartments in a building until the all-clear was sounded, or even buckets of sand placed on every floor?

   Or who would know, from a chapter in a history book, how uncertain and confusing the times were in those days? Even with CNN on the job today, rumors and speculation ran rampant during the Persian Gulf War. What must it have been like without?

   And of course, all this makes an ideal background for a murder mystery, one that takes place in Bagby’s building while his friend Inspector Schmidt (he of the always aching feet) is visiting. There is a dead man, of course; his wealthy patron; a young couple in love but not quite sure of each other; a Russian princess (and faithful milkman); a playgirl and a Broadway sharpster.

   All of the above are characters in Murder Calling “50”, along with flights and flights of stairs in the dark, dog leashes, strange noises, family jewels, elevator boys and the above-mentioned buckets of sand (handy for showing footprints in bathrooms, if nothing else).

   You probably know from this if this is the type of book for you, but if you like George Bagby/Aaron Marc Stein’s work (as I do), I should also tell you that I didn’t find it one of his better ones.

   For technical reasons, that is. The question not answered concerning the bombshell Schmitty reveals on p.257 is “When did he know, and how did he find out?” I suspect it was the mysterious one-sided phone conversation he had on p.213, but I don’t think we’ll ever know for sure.

   There were a couple of other questions left unanswered at story’s end. I won’t go into any of these — they’re relatively minor, and they have no particular effect on events, and then only before the murder, not afterward. But it would have taken Bagby only a couple of extra pages, perhaps, to fill us in, and I realize that I’m a little late in saying that I wish he had.

Rating:   C Plus.

THE DUCHESS OF BUFFALO. First National Pictures, 1926. Constance Talmadge, Tullio Carminati, Edward Martindale, Rose Dione, Chester Conklin. Screenplay by Hans Kraly based on the play Sybil by Max Bordy and Franz Martos. Director: Sidney Franklin. Shown at Cinevent 40, Columbus OH, May 2008.

   The beautiful Constance Talmadge plays Marian Duncan, an American dancer who’s touring Russia and leaving broken hearts in her wake. She’s fallen in love with a young lieutenant (Tullio Carminati) but she’s caught the attention of an aging roué (Edward Martindale), a Grand Duke who’s also the commanding officer of the hapless lieutenant.

   This is a tightly constructed romantic comedy, highlighted by a lengthy climax in which the lieutenant, Marion, the Grand Duke, and the Grand Duchess play an elaborate game of musical chairs in a hotel suite, a classic drawing room comedy situation that brings this witty play to a resolution that pleases everyone except, perhaps, the Grand Duke.

RICHARD ROSEN —

    ● Fadeaway. Harper, hardcover, September 1986. Onyx, paperback, September 1987.

    ● Saturday Night Dead. Viking, hardcover, June 1988. Onyx, paperback, June 1989.

   Though I don’t really understand why Harvey Blissberg abandoned baseball at age thirty to become a private eye, and Richard Rosen doesn’t satisfactorily explain it, I am nonetheless glad to welcome him to the shamus corps.

   Rosen’s second book, Fadeaway, does for basketball what his first, Strike Three, You’re Dead, did for baseball. Rosen writes better sports mysteries than anyone I know, except, of course, Dick Francis. I also like the way Rosen uses Providence, R.I., not your everyday mystery locale. Sure his solution is telegraphed, but Western Union has to live also.

   In Saturday Night Dead, Rosen and Blissberg almost desert sports, though Harvey gets his case through an old baseball buddy. His work is more as a bodyguard than a detective, but what would one expect of a detective from the same town as Spenser.

   Rosen worked for many years in television, and he does a great job with a comedy show that, as the title indicates, is remarkably like Saturday Night Live. He even includes some brand-new sketches, including one, “Death of a Mailman,” which is a hilarious send-up of Arthur Miller.

   Despite an overly melodramatic ending, this book does nothing to detract from Rosen’s status as one of the best new writers of the 1980s.

      The Harvey Blissberg series —

1. Strike Three You’re Dead (1984)    [Edgar Award winner for Best First Novel.]

2. Fadeaway (1986)
3. Saturday Night Dead (1988)
4. World Of Hurt (1994)
5. Dead Ball (2001)

I watched more baseball on TV last night than I have all year. It was the last day of the regular season, and I can’t remember when there were more unknowns for the playoffs on the day of Game 162 — who was playing whom and where — than yesterday.

There were actually three games I was switching back and forth between. Mostly I was watching Boston play Baltimore, but at the end of each half inning, I went down two channels to see how Tampa Bay was faring against the Yankees. Whenever both games were playing commercials — more often than you’d think — I flipped over to one of the ESPN channels to watch Atlanta play the Phillies.

Two of the games went into extra innings, and one was decided in the ninth in a stunning comeback against the second best reliever in baseball. All three were epics that fans will remember for a long time, with dramatic home runs and fielding plays galore, but what I kept thinking of is how much the other 161 games matter too.

Two of the teams, Boston and Atlanta failed badly down the stretch, and I mean badly, relinquishing leads in the standings next to impossible to lose, or so you’d think. If this had been fiction, no one would have believed it. It’s why when the sports pulps died, they stayed dead.

My team, Detroit, is still in the running. They play the Yankees on Friday night. If I had to cheer on a National League team, it would be Arizona, managed and coached by two of my favorite former players, Kirk Gibson and Alan Trammell.

Both played for Detroit, of course.