James Cain Was NOT Invited
A party for eleven of the writers who sold stories to Black Mask,
January 11, 1936. The man standing second from left with the pipe is
Raymond Chandler, and the tall man who looks like he's gripping a chair
so he won't fall over is Dashiell Hammett. This is the only time these
two ever met. Chandler would say later that Hammett was a nice guy with
a fearful capacity for Scotch, quite the observation coming from him.
Chandler had just started selling stories after being fired from the oil
business, and Hammett was an established writer. Best known for The
Maltese Falcon, my favorite by him is Red Harvest, where his unnamed
operative for the Continental Detective Agency comes to a savagely
corrupt small town and plays both sides of the conflict against each
other. It was made into the unforgettable movie Yojimbo by Kurosawa and starred Toshiro Mifune.
'I
first heard Personville called Poisonville by a red-haired mucker named
Hickey Dewey in the Big Ship in Butte. He also called his shirt a
shoit. I didn't think anything of what he had done to the city's name.
Later I heard men who could manage their r's give it the same
pronunciation. I still didn't see anything in it but the meaningless
sort of humor that used to make richardsnary the thieves' word for
dictionary. A few years later I went to Personville and learned better'.
Opening paragraph, Red Harvest. Hammett
didn't write much but I love his stuff, The Maltese Falcon is as good as
they get, both book and movie. Chandler's dialog is ridiculously
artificial but Hollywood loved his stories. His style continues to be
used as the essence of noir movies and fiction but I think it contrived
and hokey. Does get your attention, I have to admit. No talking
rabbits but still compelling.
A mucker is a
busboy who is paid with all he can drink and is allowed to sleep on the
pool tables at night, a lot like my job here at the bird rescue
center. The Big Ship was the Florence Hotel, "which quickly became
known as the “Big Ship,” not for the size of the place, huge though it
was, but because it was said that on a weekend, enough liquor was
consumed there to float “a mighty big ship.” Demolished c. 1946.
Chandler's wife Cissy was 18 years older than him. When she passed away
his life was over, he died a year later as a lonely drunk. Hammett was
a lifelong leftist who served in two world wars and as an agent for the
Pinkertons. He was blackballed during the McCarthy years. Chandler
saw combat with the Canadian armed forces in WWI and wrote the
screenplay for Double Indemnity with Billy Wilder. Above photo
taken by the amazing Leslie White, LAPD photographer and forensics man
who was also a writer, selling several stories to the studios. I didn't
recognize the name of any of the other writers in this picture. They
are Raymond Jae Moffatt, Herbert Stinson, Dwight Babcock, Eric
Taylor, Arthur Barnes, John K. Butler, Todhunter Ballard, Norbert Davis,
and Horace McCoy. Let me know if anyone has heard of them.
“There was a desert wind blowing that night. It was one of those hot
dry Santa Anas that come down through the mountain passes and curl your
hair and make your nerves jump and your skin itch. On nights like that
every booze party ends in a fight. Meek little wives feel the edge of
the carving knife and study their husbands' necks. Anything can happen.
You can even get a full glass of beer at a cocktail lounge.”
Opening paragraph, Red Wind by Raymond Chandler. January, 1938. Hmmm...not shabby at all. I gotta steal some of this.
“We begin well, sir," the fat man purred … "I distrust a man that
says when. If he's got to be careful not to drink too much it's because
he's not to be trusted when he does. … Well, sir, here's to plain
speaking and clear understanding. … You're a close-mouthed man?"
Spade shook his head. "I like to talk."
"Better and better!" the fat man exclaimed. "I distrust a close-mouthed man. He generally picks the wrong time to talk and says the wrong things. Talking's something you can't do judiciously unless you keep in practice.”
Spade shook his head. "I like to talk."
"Better and better!" the fat man exclaimed. "I distrust a close-mouthed man. He generally picks the wrong time to talk and says the wrong things. Talking's something you can't do judiciously unless you keep in practice.”
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